Tapestry of Deceit
by Lady Rosesong
Summary: Phantom of the Opera set in medieval Europe. Erik plays the mysterious and terrifying Black Knight, who is searching for a bride. Christine plays a lonely servant girl, who is mistaken as the Black Knight's intended. Romance, mystery, and as always, EC.
1. Reluctant Engagement

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* * *

Summery: Phantom of the Opera set in medieval Europe. Erik plays the mysterious and brooding Black Knight, a hero on the battlefield and a terror to his enemies; he comes to the home of Pierre de Coleville, in search of a bride. Christine plays a lonely servant girl who works for de Coleville's spoiled daughter, Carlotta, who is reluctantly betrothed to the fearsome Black Knight. A romantic tale of mystery, passion, vengeance, and mistaken identity. Erik/Christine. **

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Reluctant Engagement_**

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO MARRY HIM!"

Pierre de Coleville groaned as his daughter's high pitched shrills echoed off the walls of his great hall and throughout the rest of his castle. He looked to his wife for some support, but she simply glared right back at him, her anger and disappointment even louder than Carlotta's screams…if that was possible.

"I won't marry him!" Carlotta spat, stomping her feet like an overgrown child.

"Yes, you will…" Pierre grumbled, massaging his temples from the headache his daughter's shrieks had caused.

"NO, I WON'T!" Carlotta shouted, stomping her foot even harder. "HE'S OLD! HE'S UGLY! HE'S CRUEL!"

Pierre groaned again, wishing, not for the first time, that the king hadn't ordered him to marry all those years ago. "He's six and thirty, that's hardly old!" Pierre attempted to reason. The man in question was only twelve years younger than he.

Carlotta glared at her father with contempt. "And his ugliness? His cruelty? DEFEND THEM!" she charged, folding her arms across her chest and stomping her foot with indignation.

Pierre glanced once more to his wife for some sign of support, but she simply ignored him, her concentration entirely focused on the small tapestry she was weaving.

"Sir Erik is not a cruel man…" Pierre protested, although anyone could tell he himself did not trust his words. "He…he simply has…an ill reputation…spread by his enemies…" he mumbled. "But he's a good loyal man to others!" he willed himself to believe, although it was proving to be most futile.

"And his ugliness?" Carlotta challenged, her hands now going to her hips.

Pierre knew it was a losing battle. "He's a knight, Carlotta, a soldier. He's fought in many wars, it should not come as a great surprise that he has…battle scars."

"BATTLE SCARS?" Carlotta shrieked, and Pierre found himself cringing again. "HE'S HIDEOUS! AND I REFUSE TO MARRY HIM!"

Pierre had only one more hope of trying to reason with his daughter. "I hear he is extremely rich!"

For the first time since this argument had arisen, his wife's eyes finally lifted with interest.

"Yes, quite rich," Pierre continued, hoping with the aid of his wife, he could convince Carlotta to accept the betrothal and end his misery. "I hear he's made twice the fortune I have ever had, in simply ten years of fighting on the battle field!"

Maria de Coleville was now smiling with approval at the words her husband had spoken. She grinned happily and turned to face her daughter, whose expression was currently unreadable; it seemed she too was assessing this new information.

"Well, my dear?" Pierre asked, looking most hopeful. He reached over to take his wife's hand in his.

Carlotta's angry face had now changed to one of sweetness. It always amazed Pierre how quickly his daughter could go from looking like an angelic pixie, to a howling banshee. Her lovely porcelain face seemed to radiate when her pretty pink lips spread into a beautiful smile, revealing a glowing set of fine white teeth…

And then the spell ended.

"NO!" Carlotta screamed, stomping her foot once more, her smile disappearing as quickly as it had come, her beautiful features contorting into an angry sneer of selfishness and indignation.

Pierre's mouth fell open from the shock of her stubbornness, and turned to his wife, hoping she would reprimand their spoiled child, but instead, she let go of his hand as if she had been holding a dead fish, and went right back to her weaving, casting him an icy glare of disapproval, but remaining silent.

"Now see here, Carlotta," Pierre growled, rising to his feet and looking at his daughter with as much sternness as he could muster, although Carlotta did not look the least bit intimidated. "You will accept Sir Erik's betrothal! He is on his way here this very day to see you and make the final arrangements!"

Carlotta gasped, but she didn't back down from her glaring.

"If all goes well, as it SHOULD," he emphasized, "the two of you will be married in our own chapel…tomorrow!"

Maria lifted her head and gasped along with her daughter at her husband's stern words. She had not realized Pierre was capable of being so forward with his actions; he normally backed down after one of Carlotta's tantrums.

"AND," Pierre added, feeling his spirits lift as he continued to lay down the law. "You will be a most CIVIL hostess to Sir Erik when he arrives!"

Carlotta's eyes narrowed into two dark slits, and she lifted her chin, glaring back at her father with rage. "We shall see about that…" she hissed, before grabbing her skirts and turning on her heel, her shrieks of anger and disgust filling every corner of the castle.

Pierre flopped back down into his chair and realized that the heavy sound of breathing was coming from him. He turned to look at his wife, half expecting her to be glaring at him, half expecting her to be ignoring him, but instead…she was grinning, a most wicked and devious grin. "Tell me, dear husband," she purred, rising from her chair to run her fingers over Pierre's trembling shoulders. "Just how rich, is Sir Erik?"

* * *

Christine Daae sighed and ran her arm over her sweaty brow, as she leaned over the boiling pot of laundry that she had been stirring for nearly an hour. Her back ached from being hunched over, her skin was hot from the steam that rose from the pot itself, and her stomach was growling for the lack of breakfast she had had that morning. There had been no time for breakfast, not when her mistress demanded so much of her attention. 

"CHRISTINE!"

Christine gasped and nearly dropped the heavy wooden spoon that she had been stirring with.

"CHRISTINE!"

Christine groaned and slowly turned her face towards the sounds of her young mistress, which were coming from the hall just beyond the castle's laundry room. She could only imagine what demands Carlotta would make now. With a heavy sigh, Christine ceased her stirring, and quickly went to the door to see what it was that her young mistress required.

"THERE YOU ARE!" Carlotta practically shrieked, her dark eyes filled with venom at the sight of servant girl. "WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU?"

Christine kept her comments to herself, although she longed to grab the spoiled girl by her blonde ringlets and plunge her head first into the boiling vat of laundry. Instead, she swallowed the little pride that she contained, and gave a small curtsy. "Forgive me, I did not hear your call."

Carlotta rolled her eyes and pushed her way past the servant girl. "I want a bath!" she shouted over her shoulder as she made her way towards her chambers. "Start boiling some rose water and have those overgrown oafs bring me my tub!"

Christine curtsied, even though Carlotta wasn't paying attention, which also meant that she could glare at her spoiled mistress as she flounced away. She knew it was no use attempting to explain to Carlotta that she had other chores to tend to first, such as finishing the laundry, mending Lady Maria's stockings, dusting the tapestries in the great hall, and scrubbing the hall's massive stone steps…all of which had to be finished before the afternoon. She was a servant…not a slave, but Carlotta saw no difference, so long as her needs were met first.

Despite Pierre de Coleville's massive castle, there were only a handful of servants to run it. All of them knew why, even though their master and his family were in denial; Pierre de Coleville was on the verge of becoming a pauper. His debts were extreme, and it didn't help that his wife and daughter spent what little money he had left on all kinds of frivolities. In order to hold on to the scraps of wealth that he had, he dismissed many of the castle's servants, making life even more miserable than it had already been. Christine was a scullery maid, she had been trained as such, but she found herself working other odd jobs, including that of being Carlotta's personal maid…a chore she would gladly give up.

Christine quickly ran to the kitchens, hoping one of the younger girls there could take over her duties in the laundry room, while she went to boil Carlotta's bath water. "George? Robert?" Two tall and broad shouldered men looked up from their chores in the kitchens to Christine's voice. "Mistress Carlotta would like her tub brought up to her chambers," Christine explained, which earned a small groan from the men. "Be careful," Christine advised. "She's in quite a mood."

"She's always in a mood," a young woman muttered from a table at the center of the kitchen. She was hard at task of peeling potatoes.

"Right you are, my sweet Meg," the man named Robert grinned, bending his head to brush his lips against the woman's cheek, to which she smiled and turned her face to kiss his own lips, before going back to her task, while he and George went to retrieve Carlotta's tub.

Christine smiled at the couple, before turning to go about her task of boiling some hot rose water for her young mistress. "She better start appreciating these baths," she sighed as she added the special rose herbs to the water she was boiling. "With the way our master's finances are going, she may soon find that a bath is a luxury she will no longer be able to afford."

Meg released a snort of laughter at Christine's comment. "Mark my words, that girl will never know how to appreciate anything, even after it's taken from her."

Christine smiled at the woman who sat at the nearby table, grateful that her friend still remained even after Pierre had dismissed so many other servants. Meg had been one of the few people who had welcomed Christine when she had come to the castle nearly twelve years ago. Christine was a penniless child who had little experience of working as a servant, and many of the other servants saw this as an opportunity to manipulate her and make her the butt of their cruel jokes. Thankfully, Meg had come to her defense, even though she was only a child as well. Meg's mother was head cook in the castle's kitchen, a stern stone-faced woman who could make even the strongest man quake with fear with one icy look. Once Meg had taken Christine under her wing, the taunts came to an end. Sadly, however, when Pierre began dismissing servants, one of the many he removed was Meg's mother, Antoinette. She had been a mother to Christine in many ways as well.

"How is your mother?" Christine asked, hoping that Meg had some good news to share. The last Christine had heard, Antoinette was cooking and serving food for a small inn in a nearby village. It was slave labor, truly, but the world was cruel to homeless beggars, and servants had little choice: work or starve.

"She is well," Meg murmured, sadness filling her eyes. "She sends her love, and asked…again…if you have married."

Christine gave a small groan. Antoinette always asked if she were married yet. The truth was, all the men that would make suitable husbands were either married or betrothed, and the ones that were unattached were too old, too young, or too lecherous. Yet Christine knew exactly why Antoinette hoped to see her marry soon…and the reason behind the woman's inquiry filled Christine with a chilling dread.

"How are you feeling today?" Christine inquired, choosing to change the subject.

Meg smiled and placed a hand on her large swollen belly. "My daughter continues to kick quite strongly," she giggled, her face glowing with love and happiness as she caressed her stomach.

Christine grinned back. "Perhaps it is a boy as Robert predicts? Surely a boy would kick harder than a girl?"

Meg frowned. "Don't go taking his side!" she fumed, picking up another potato and peeling it viciously.

Christine bit back her laugh, knowing of the constant battle that Meg and her husband Robert kept having on the sex of their unborn child. Christine often found herself envying Meg, which immediately caused guilt to rise in her heart, for truly, she was extremely happy for the blessings God had given to her friend.

Meg was very lovely, with long wavy strawberry-blonde hair, and soft kind blue eyes. She was large now, due to being eight months pregnant, but she was small and elegantly slender, and often talked about her dream of dancing to the epic stories that bards wove before a roaring fire.

Meg's husband, Robert, was a sweet natured man, who made his love for his wife quite obvious with the way he kissed her, touched her, and looked at her from across the room. He was a large man, with broad shoulders and strong arms, and whenever Meg stood next to him, she looked like a dwarf standing next to a giant. He had unruly sandy-brown hair which matched his equally unruly beard. Some would say he reminded them of a Saxon barbarian, but in truth, his nature was kind and his voice gentle. Christine could never imagine Robert doing anyone any harm…unless they attempted to do harm to his wife or child. Such a person would soon regret their actions on that day.

That was probably what Christine envied the most about her friend. Not the fact that Meg was married to Robert; Robert was like an older brother to her, just as Meg was like a sister. It was the fact that the two of them had found such happiness and love with one another. It was rare that people married for love, but Meg and Robert had been most fortunate in that sense. Christine only prayed that one day, she too would find a man that would cherish her the way Robert cherished Meg…

"I'd best get this to Carlotta before she screams her head off," Christine groaned as she carefully lifted the boiling kettle off the fire.

"Let me help you," Meg insisted, rising from the table where she sat.

"No!" Christine scolded. "Meg, you're in no condition. I will get by fine on my own."

Meg made a face and then turned her head towards one of the young kitchen boys, who was sitting in a corner, lazily petting a dog at his feet while catching a mid-morning snooze. "Boy!" Meg barked, waking the child from his nap with a start. "Make yourself useful and carry this pot to Mistress Carlotta's chambers," she ordered, to which the boy immediately scrambled to where Christine stood and began to heft the pot in the direction he had been told. Christine looked at her friend with puzzlement, but Meg reached out for her and immediately looped her arm through Christine's. "Walk with me."

The two women followed the boy as he carefully hefted the pot towards Carlotta's chambers. "I must say," Meg sighed. "It does feel good to finally be able to stretch one's legs." Meg glanced up ahead, noticing that the boy was too preoccupied with making sure he didn't spill the water to be interested in listening to their conversation. "Remember how you said earlier that Carlotta needs to start appreciating these baths because they may become unaffordable luxuries?"

Christine nodded her head, unsure what her friend was trying to say.

"Well," Meg continued. "What if I told you that her father has found a way to keep such luxuries affordable?"

Christine gasped, her mouth falling open at the meaning of Meg's words. Only one such thing could do that. "Carlotta is going to be married?"

Meg put a finger to her lips, glancing at the boy up ahead, but quickly nodded, sharing the same grin that Christine possessed. "Can you imagine it? She may be out of this place in a fortnight!"

Christine could not imagine happier news. "A fortnight is not soon enough!" she pulled on Meg's arm to stop the two of them walking. "Do you know who the man is?"

Meg shook her head. "A knight who has spent more of his life on the battlefield than in his own castle, from what I understand. But now, he wishes to take a bride…and it appears that Carlotta is his choice."

Christine's brow crinkled somewhat. She couldn't help but feel sorry for this mysterious knight. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"CHRISTINE? IT'S ABOUT TIME!" Carlotta shouted angrily as the boy carefully knocked on her chamber door.

Christine groaned, and gave a small smile to her friend, while she took the pot of water from the frightened youth, and entered the luxurious bedchamber that belonged to Carlotta.

George and Robert stood in a corner, and quickly took the large pot and poured it into the tub they had dragged up on Carlotta's commands. As soon as they had finished, they gave Christine a pitying look, before leaving as Carlotta dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

Christine knew her duties; they were a trained routine. She quickly went over to where Carlotta stood and immediately began undressing the spoiled girl, who was too busy admiring her fair reflection in the large looking glass that leaned against one wall.

While Christine despised her young mistress, she could not help but admit that Carlotta was indeed beautiful. She was only sixteen, and yet she had the body of a goddess; round ample hips, a slim waist, and large milky white breasts that she proudly put on display with her low cut bodices. Her hair was blonde, but unlike Meg's which was gold with tints of copper here and there, Carlotta's was flaxen, almost a silvery white when caught in the sun's rays. Christine's evenings always ended with combing Carlotta's hair, at least three hundred strokes at a time. Her skin was fair, thanks to the many baths she took, and her lips were soft, pink, and luscious. Christine recalled how a visiting bard had once dedicated a poem in honor of Carlotta's lips; for practically a month, it was all the spoiled girl could talk about.

The only feature that Christine did not find beautiful about her young mistress was her eyes. Carlotta had dark brown eyes, and it was not the color that Christine disliked…after all, her mother had dark brown eyes, as did Antoinette and Robert. However, their eyes were kind, filled with warmth and laughter. Carlotta's reminded Christine of a chilly winter, of a black abyss, and when Carlotta's lips spread in a wicked smile, they looked practically demonic.

"Hurry up!" Carlotta muttered. "The water will be cold soon!"

Christine quickly finished her task of undressing her young mistress, and turned her eyes away as Carlotta admired her naked beauty in front of the mirror, before dipping into the steaming hot tub of rose scented water. "Ah, much better…" the flaxen beauty purred as the warm water lapped at her curves.

Christine sighed and went to the side of the tub, holding a tray with the various items that Carlotta would request; scented oils, jars filled spices and herbs, and a large bar of soap made from sandalwood. Carlotta went about her task of rubbing the various sweet smelling items into skin, ordering Christine now and then to put her tray down, and scrub the young woman's back, as well as wash her hair. Many a time Christine had imagined dunking the girl's head under the water and perhaps holding it down, but the second such thoughts crept into her mind, she knew that the first thing she would do after Carlotta dismissed her was seek out a priest to confess her sinful thoughts. However, such ideas did not come to Christine this time, as much to her surprise, her young mistress was actually speaking to her in a voice that held no hints of orders.

"I hate Papa," she spat. "I can not believe what he did!"

Christine remembered the news Meg had shared, and could only assume that Carlotta was speaking about her future husband. Much to Christine's surprise, the girl seemed to be very much against the idea of marriage to a wealthy knight.

"I want nothing to do with Sir Erik!" Carlotta continued. "He's old and ugly! I don't care how rich he is!"

Christine bit back the groan in her throat. Carlotta was indeed greedy, but in the end, her vanity won out over anything. Indeed, this Sir Erik could be richer than the king himself, but nothing else mattered if Carlotta's vanity could not be appeased.

"Surely he is not that bad…" Christine murmured, daring to speak without Carlotta's permission.

"He's hideous!" Carlotta spat in outrage. "I have never seen him, but I have heard enough stories about him and how ugly he looks!"

Christine's mind also wandered to this mysterious knight. Now and then, stories would reach her ears down in the kitchens, if she did not overhear them from Carlotta and her family while she was doing her chores. Yet she had never heard of this mysterious Sir Erik…or of his horrifying looks.

"Papa says he is coming here, this very day, to look upon me and seal the engagement contract he has made with father," she grumbled, taking the sandalwood bar and scrubbing it over her nails. "And if he so wishes, I could be married to him by tomorrow!"

Christine found herself gasping; of course Carlotta interpreted it as Christine pitying her. If only the girl truly knew.

Carlotta could be gone as soon as tomorrow! She did not know who this Sir Erik was, but she knew that without a doubt, the second he laid eyes on Carlotta's beauty, he would be more than willing to sign that contract and wed her before sundown.

"How could God be so cruel?" Carlotta wailed. "To curse me with such a hideous man!"

Christine bit her lips to keep from grinning. It was a curse to Carlotta, but a blessing for her.

"Unless…"

Christine froze as she heard Carlotta's words. While her young mistress was not a creature of great intelligence, she was not an idiot either. What Carlotta lacked in intellect, she made up for with cunning.

"Christine…" she murmured in her sweetest tone. Christine knew this could only mean trouble. "How would you like to help your mistress?"

Christine would love to help her…help her leave the castle as soon as possible! But as Carlotta turned in the tub and settled her demon-like eyes upon her, Christine knew that was not the sort of help Carlotta was asking. "How old are you again?" Carlotta inquired, eyeing Christine up and down with great interest.

Christine's brow furrowed with confusion. "Twenty…" she replied, a horrible feeling settling over her.

Carlotta nodded her head with approval. "And…you do look as if you're close to being my size…"

"Size?" Christine practically squeaked, her dread growing by the second.

"Yes…well, your bosom is no where near as ample as mine," she stated proudly. "But you are not much taller than me…and the rest of your proportions seem to fit…"

Christine's face was burning red as Carlotta continued to talk about her as if she were nothing more than a prized pet that someone kept. "Yes," she murmured to herself after her assessment of the servant girl. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

Carlotta rose from the tub then, and much to Christine's surprise, did not order the girl to help her out, but rather grabbed the linen towel Christine had been holding, wrapped it around herself, and flew to the other end of her chamber to where a large cedar cabinet lay. Carlotta threw the cabinet doors open, and began to go through the many beautiful gowns that hung inside.

"No, no, no," she muttered to herself as she rifled through the gowns. "No…no…ah! This one!" she pulled out a silver blue gown, with long flowing sleeves and a neckline that left little to the imagination. Christine swallowed as she gazed at the gown Carlotta had thrown with careless ease upon the bed. "You will wear that!"

Christine gasped when she realized that Carlotta was talking to her. "W-w-w-what?"

Carlotta grinned and lifted her chin high into the air. "You will wear this, and pretend to be me."

Had Christine not been holding onto the bedpost, she would have surely stumbled backwards at Carlotta's words, and found herself lying in what was left of the young woman's bath. "W-w-w-what?"

"Oh stop stuttering," the flaxen-haired beauty groaned before shoving the gown into Christine's arms. "Don't you see? It's perfect! I will pretend to be you…and you will pretend to be me!"

Christine couldn't believe the madness that had taken her mistress. What on earth was she going on about! "I…I don't understand–"

"It's not that difficult to understand!" Carlotta practically barked, her irritation growing by the second. "Look, Sir Erik comes today to see me. However, instead of seeing me, he shall see you! You will sit in the garden, wearing my gown, and I will be wearing one of your…" she paused as she gazed at Christine's drab brown dress and tunic with disgust. "Anyway," she shook her head. "I will pretend to be a servant while you pretend to be me."

Christine still didn't understand what this whole charade was about. "Why?" she finally asked.

Carlotta groaned and her hands flew to her hair, before finally reaching out and dragging Christine over to her large looking glass. "Sir Erik will think YOU are me! Once he sees you, he will not be interested in carrying out the marriage!"

Christine felt as if someone had slapped her. She wished someone had; a slap would sting less than Carlotta's cruel words.

"Don't you see? Once Sir Erik sees how plain you are…he will not wish to take me as his bride, and renounce the contract…and free me! It's perfect!"

Christine could not help but stare at her reflection in the mirror, feeling the cold bitterness of Carlotta's uncaring words sink over her. She knew she was not beautiful, not in the same way that Carlotta was, but…truly, she was not that off-putting…was she? Her hair was a dull brown color, it did not have the shimmer that Carlotta or Meg's had, and her skin was not smooth or the color of ivory cream, but slightly tanned from working outdoors in the summer, and rough for the many hours she slaved scrubbing the floors in the great hall. Her blue eyes did not seem to have the same brilliance of those of Lady Maria, whose eyes were often compared to two sparkling sapphires, and Christine did not need to be reminded of the fact that her breasts were nowhere as full or beautiful of those of her mistress.

Perhaps Carlotta was right? After all, standing there, beside her beautiful mistress, could one even begin to draw a comparison?

"It won't work…" Christine murmured to herself, although Carlotta heard every word.

"Of course it will!"

"How?" Christine sighed, turning to face her pouting mistress. "Surely your father as described you to Sir Erik?" Christine rolled her eyes as Carlotta smiled smugly at the idea of her beauty being mentioned. "He will look at me and know that I am not you! You are fair, and I am dark–"

"I doubt Papa has gone to the trouble of mentioning my hair," she grumbled, running her fingers through its flaxen strands. Her father never commented on her beauty. "And besides! You'll be wearing this," she patted the gown that was still in Christine's arms. "Even though you're not a beauty, he will still assume that you are me when he sees you in this gown. Trust me, men rarely notice anything beyond its surface."

For the first time in her life, Christine found herself agreeing with Carlotta.

"It's too risky," Christine shook her head, pushing the gown back into Carlotta's arms. "Your father or mother will see me and have me locked in the stocks, as well as beaten."

"They'll never know!" Carlotta insisted, pushing the dress back.

"No! I will not do it!" Christine said with great determination, throwing the dress down upon the bed and turning to leave, not caring if Carlotta screamed and threw a tantrum. Carlotta's wrath could be great, but it was often short; Carlotta would order that Christine be beaten for her "rudeness", which was sadly, something Christine was used to, but a beating from Carlotta paled to the possibility of being ridiculed in public or beaten by Pierre himself…or losing her job. Christine had no family and very little money; forcing her to leave would be a death sentence.

"CHRISTINE!"

Christine ignored Carlotta's screams, determined to not hear one more insulting word of this crazed plan.

"IF YOU LEAVE, I'LL TELL PHILIPPE!"

Christine froze at the mention of the man's name.

Philippe de Coleville; Carlotta's older brother and quite possibly, the most notorious rake in the entire kingdom.

Philippe was often away from the castle, wasting what little money his father had, on drink, gambling, and women. Especially women. He only came to the castle when he needed more money, and despite Pierre's protests, Lady Maria indulged her son's wishes.

Christine hated those times when Philippe was there. It was amazing she still had her virginity. Philippe always loved to corner Christine when she was coming out of the kitchens, or the laundry room, or the barn outside. He would corner her with his body, his powerful arms locking her on both sides, making it impossible to escape. He would whisper in her ear all the grotesque things he wanted to do to her body, and she would quake with revulsion as she felt his hot breath hit her neck. He was the reason Antoinette wanted her to marry soon; she believed that if Christine had a husband, Philippe's interests would either disappear, or at least Christine's husband would be able to keep him away.

Carlotta grinned wickedly as she noticed the effect her brother's name had on the servant girl. She knew her brother wanted Christine, although she did not entirely understand why. And Carlotta knew that all it took was for one word from her, to have Philippe riding back to the castle to claim his "prize", if she so wished it.

Christine was trembling with both anger and fear as she gazed into the dark eyes of her mistress, knowing that it was a losing battle. There was risk from both angles: either she pretend to be Carlotta and risk being caught by Pierre or his wife, or she face Philippe and risk far worse.

With a heavy sigh, Christine marched over to the bed and picked up the gown Carlotta had thrust into her arms earlier. "When will Sir Erik be arriving?"


	2. Startling Announcement

**Summery: **The fearsome Black Knight arrives at Baron de Coleville's home to claim his bride; Christine has no idea what she's gotten herself into...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Startling Announcement**_

Christine groaned as she leaned against the castle wall just outside Carlotta's bedchamber. Inside, she could hear the sounds of the young woman giggling happily that her plan was about to be set in motion. Christine shut her eyes, hoping somehow that she could block out the girl's horrible laugh, but it was no use. She had fallen into Carlotta's deceitful trap and there was no getting out.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered to herself, hefting the beautiful silver and blue gown under her arm. She knew, despite Carlotta's cunning, that this plan was going to backfire. Even if Sir Erik renounced the engagement contract as Carlotta was hoping, Christine would still be the one left to suffer. No doubt Pierre would want an explanation, and once Sir Erik explained to him the situation, Pierre would quickly learn that it was not Carlotta who Sir Erik had observed, but herself!

She would be lashed for certain, but that was not what troubled Christine; she would be thrown out onto the street for her insubordination, and left to starve. And where would Carlotta be then? Nowhere, of course. She didn't care what happened to Christine, so long as she didn't have to marry a man she believed was ugly.

"I should have said 'no'," Christine muttered. "I shouldn't have even listened to her! I should have simply turned on my heel and walked–"

Christine gasped as she came slamming into something hard and menacing. She hadn't been paying attention, she was too busy chastising herself to have realized someone else was coming around the corner at the same time she was. She lifted her eyes, an apology already on her lips…but it quickly died as her eyes continued to look up at the man who stood before her, his menacing presence causing a chill to run down her spine.

"Why…hello Christine," Philippe de Coleville grinned, his own dark demon-like eyes sparkling with wickedness at the sight of the servant girl.

Christine stared in horror at the man before her. It was as if Carlotta's threat had come true in that instant. Philippe was considered to be a handsome man by many, but Christine saw nothing handsome about him, not when she knew how lecherous and cruel he could be. He was the giant of the family, a man who towered over his own father, reminding Christine of a Viking barbarian. He had long, unkempt, silver-blonde hair, just like his sister, as well as the same dark brown demonic eyes. He was not overly muscular, perhaps thinner than most men his age or older, but he made up for his lack of physical strength with cunning and malice. And while he was not the sort of man that could perhaps best another with brute strength…he was still strong enough to leave bruises and welts on any poor female that got in his way.

"I must say," Philippe continued, his eyes raking over Christine, causing the young woman to shrink with revulsion. "You seem to have actually become…pretty, since last I saw you."

Christine's cheeks flushed from the insult. She knew she was plain, she did not need to be reminded by both Carlotta and her brother.

"Or perhaps you simply look pretty because it has been so long since I've seen you…and have been with a woman…" he grinned wickedly, his fingers rising to tangle in Christine's brown curls.

Christine trembled as she felt Philippe's hand, and bit her lip to keep from screaming. She recalled how last time she cried out for him to stop, he backhanded her so hard, that she lost a tooth.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he teased, his fingers now gliding down the skin of her neck, his eyes falling over her breasts, watching them rise with every breath. "Aren't you going to greet your lord and master?"

Christine bit her lip even harder, and looked up at Philippe with disgust. He loved making her squirm like this, loved seeing the discomfort and fear she was feeling. He especially loved forcing her to call him "master".

"Well?" he murmured, his hand sliding down her arm in a lecherous caress that made Christine want to vomit. "Aren't you at least going to apologize for running into me?" he backed her against the wall, his hot revolting breath all over her skin, causing Christine to turn her head with a want to gag.

"Philippe?"

Philippe muttered a curse under his breath and turned his head towards the voice that had spoken his name, a pleasant smile now plastered on his face. "Hello mother."

"Philippe! It IS you!" Lady Maria cried, rushing down the hall towards her son, and wrapping her arms around him. She didn't even notice Christine standing there.

Christine took this opportunity to escape, slowly slinking away while Philippe's mother embraced him. However, before she turned away, she caught Philippe's eye; it was dark and filled with menacing promise that this was not finished yet.

"Oh Philippe," Lady Maria sighed, smiling up at her handsome son. "I did not know you would be coming here! Is everything all right? Will you be staying for long?"

"Sadly, no," Philippe lied. Yes, he wouldn't be staying for long, that was true, but the lie was that he felt any remorse for leaving. "I can only stay for a fortnight." That was more than enough time to bed Christine and get more money from his father.

"Oh that is wonderful news!" Lady Maria exclaimed. "You will be able to stay for your sister's wedding!"

Philippe's face fell at his mother's words. "Wedding?" In the last letter he had received from Carlotta there had been no mention of a wedding, let alone a betrothal. If Carlotta married, that meant Christine would be taken from the castle, since she had more or less become Carlotta's personal servant.

"Yes, to a knight by the name of Sir Erik von Desslar."

Philippe frowned at the name. He did not know of the man, but something about the name caused him great discomfort.

"He is very rich, from what I am told," Lady Maria grinned. "Twice as rich as your father."

"More likely to be ten times as rich as father," Philippe muttered under his breath. Unlike his mother and sister, Philippe was very much aware of his family's financial burdens. He just didn't care, so long as he had enough money to spend as he pleased. Having a rich brother-in-law may be worth losing Christine…and of course, with Carlotta's help, he was sure he could still get his hands on Christine even after his sister married.

"What is this Sir Erik like?" Philippe asked, pretending he was truly interested, when in truth, he was hatching his own scheme.

"Your father did not say," Lady Maria sighed. "All I know is that he is a man of six and thirty, and it is rumored that he is horribly disfigured."

Philippe cocked an eyebrow at his mother's words. "Disfigured?"

"Yes," Lady Maria replied. "Although that could mean anything. Your father didn't explain how or where his scars are, only that it should be expected that a fierce soldier, such as he, would have battle scars." She tucked her arm with that of her son's, and began to lead him to the great hall. "I do hope it is an exaggeration, I can not bear the thought of my sweet Carlotta being married to a monster."

* * *

Bernard dug his heels into his horse, urging the beast to gallop even faster than it was, in a vain attempt to keep up with his master.

For three days, they had been riding hard, stopping only now and then to give the horses rest. As for the men, they too wished their master would be as kind to them as he was being to the horses; they had little chance to sit and rest their weary muscles.

"My lord!" Bernard roared over the thunderous sound of the horses' hooves. "My lord! I think the men need rest!"

Suddenly, much to Bernard's shock, as well as the other men, Sir Erik tugged on the reins of his giant black steed, bringing the horse to an abrupt stop. Bernard swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched his master's large shoulders heave up and down with labored breathing, as if he himself had been the one galloping. Slowly, painfully slowly, the large dark figure turned towards Bernard, and the steward felt a cold sense of warning wash over him.

Bernard had been Sir Erik's steward ever since the king had knighted the man almost ten years ago. Sir Erik was known as a hero on the battlefield, and a terror to anyone deemed his enemy. He had won many battles for king and country, and was highly favored amongst the royal court, although he avoided the court life as much as possible. In all the years he served with him, Bernard knew Erik to be a trustworthy man, even if he was menacing to behold.

Erik was a giant amongst men. Tall, broad shouldered, muscular, with long shaggy black hair, and piercing amber gold eyes. He wore nothing but black–his tunic, his armor, everything…all black. This was one of the reasons for why he was called "The Black Knight"; the other reason had to do with his storm-like temper and dark mood. Bernard could not recall one moment in his life when he saw Sir Erik smile…and a part of him feared what such an expression would look like. He could not imagine his master as anything but menacing in appearance. Even now, as Erik's golden gaze caught Bernard's, the steward found himself shrinking atop his horse, wanting to crawl away from the intensity of his master's eyes.

Erik wore a black cloak over his armor, with a high fur collar pulled all the way up to his eyes. The cloak also contained a hood, which Erik had pulled over his head. Only his eyes were visible…and one eye was surrounded by something white, a sharp contrast amidst the ocean of black he wore.

"We stop…when I say we stop," Erik growled, deep and low, his voice imitating thunder.

Bernard swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head dumbly, before Erik turned his back to him once more, and dug his heels into his horse, crying out a mighty "YAW!" before speeding down the road that led them to Pierre de Coleville's castle.

Bernard turned his head and nodded at Erik's men, before urging his own horse to keep up with his master. He still could not believe what his master had told him three days ago. Sir Erik von Desslar, the king's menacing Black Knight, the terror of war, the man who named his sword "the ghost maker"…was getting married.

And to the sixteen-year-old daughter of a baron no less!

Bernard didn't understand why his master was getting married; he thought marriage was the last thing his master would be interested in. Had the king given the order that he marry? Or was Sir Erik truly enamored with the lady in question? Bernard knew nothing about the girl, other than her name: Carlotta de Coleville. His master did not show any emotion when he mentioned the lady's name; in fact, he mentioned his marriage as if it were another task he had to conquer for his country. Whoever this woman was, he only prayed that her home was close and that the food was plenty.

* * *

"I would have dug my foot into his balls."

Christine gasped at Meg's forward remark and whirled around to face her friend who was busy fixing a hearty pudding for dinner.

"Oh yes, that would have gone over extremely well," Christine muttered with great sarcasm.

"He deserves it," Meg grumbled. She despised Philippe de Coleville and was always worried when he was around, knowing how he seemed to lust after Christine. "That would have taught him a lesson," she hissed. "Teach him to keep his lecherous hands to himself."

Christine sighed, wishing she had Meg's fearlessness. "Yes, and it would also have me out on the street without home, food, or work."

Meg sighed and stopped her work, her eyes lifting to those of her friend. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, Christine. And…perhaps…perhaps Mama is right. Perhaps you should marry quickly."

Christine sighed, understanding and appreciating Meg's concern, but hating the thought of marrying someone simply for her own means, rather than an equal share of affection. "Do you really think Philippe will stop his tormenting if I have a husband?"

Meg shrugged her shoulders. "His desire may lessen. Perhaps the reason he is attracted to you is because you are still a maiden."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the only reason," Christine whispered so Meg couldn't hear. She knew she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself, especially when it came to Philippe de Coleville, but so many times today she had heard horrible things about her lack of beauty and distinct plainness, that it was becoming almost too much to bear.

"How is Carlotta taking the news of her future marriage?" Meg asked, deciding to change the subject.

"Quite well," Christine muttered sarcastically as she stirred the boiling pot of stew before her. "She knows very little of him, but tells me he is quite old and most ugly."

Meg cocked a brow at these words. "Well, I know nothing about the man's age, but I have heard from others that he is not handsome."

Christine stopped her stirring and glanced over at Meg. She hadn't told her friend about the scheme that Carlotta had gotten her caught up in. "Really?" she could not help but be curious about this mysterious Sir Erik. Was the man truly ugly? Or was Carlotta simply exaggerating?

"Robert heard from the master's steward that Sir Erik has hideous scars all over his body from fighting in so many wars," Meg explained. "And, he apparently wears some kind of shield, to hide the ones that are on his face."

Christine's brow furrowed at this news. "A shield? Do you mean…like…some sort of mask?"

Meg shrugged her shoulders. "Robert didn't say, but it sounds that way, doesn't it? Oh what a sight that would be…Carlotta in all her spoiled splendor, forced to marry a man who has to wear a mask to hide his scars. The little brat deserves it."

Christine tried to chuckle with her friend, but found her heart swelling with pity for the man in question. She knew nothing about Sir Erik, and yet she felt guilty for the trick that both she and Carlotta would be playing on him later.

"I wish Mama were here," Meg sighed, pushing back a sweaty copper-gold strand of hair away from her face. "She always knew how to whip up a feast in such little time."

Christine glanced out the single window in the kitchen and noticed the sun beginning its descent. Sir Erik and his men would be arriving shortly, just as Carlotta had said: before dusk.

"I just remembered," Christine murmured, keeping her eyes away from Meg's for fear of giving everything away. "Carlotta wanted me to help her dress before Sir Erik arrives. I best go and do that before she begins screaming."

Meg groaned and rolled her eyes. "The sooner that harpy is out of this place, the better."

Christine gave her friend a sympathetic smile, before turning on her heel and quickly heading to her chambers to change into the gown Carlotta had given her. Earlier that afternoon, after making extra sure that Philippe was occupied by his parents, Christine left one of her own dresses in Carlotta's room. She only had three, and all of them were drab and tattered, but Christine was sure to give Carlotta the worst one; if she was going through with this crazy scheme, she'd at least get satisfaction at seeing Carlotta wearing rags.

Quickly, Christine undressed and pulled the thin shift over her body, before throwing the gown over her head, and working the laces so that it would properly stay. She blushed as she looked down at the neckline; it was extremely low and displayed her cleavage in a most shocking manner. Sadly, the dress was designed for someone with a much larger bosom, and Christine felt utterly pathetic as her small breasts attempted to fill the fabric. She had a feeling Carlotta had picked this gown on purpose for that very reason.

Suddenly, the sound of trumpets could be overheard, and Christine let out a gasp as she heard a herald cry out Sir Erik's name.

He was here!

The time had come for this silly charade to begin.

Taking a deep breath, Christine peeked out the door and surveyed the hall, making sure no one was in sight. Satisfied that it was indeed safe, she quickly rushed down the hall and out one of the castle's back entrances that led directly to the gardens, the very place where Carlotta had told her to wait.

"There you are!" Carlotta hissed, lifting her head from the place where she had been kneeling, trying to look like a servant hard at work, which truly was a joke, since her delicate creamy skin and flaxen blonde hair held not one smudge of dirt for someone who had been gardening.

Christine bit her lip to keep from laughing as she took in the sight of Carlotta wearing the rags she had given her. "He will never believe you are a servant if your hands don't get dirty."

"Shut up," Carlotta grumbled, a look of disgust etched across her face as the coarse fabric of Christine's dress scratched her delicate skin. "Go and sit over there," she pointed towards a secluded spot near a rose bush. "Be sure you have your back to the castle. I told Papa exactly how I would be sitting, and that I wanted him to send Sir Erik out into the garden alone."

Christine was trembling. "This won't work…someone will see, someone will know, he'll figure it out–"

"He's an old ugly fool!" Carlotta argued. "And it will work so long as you keep your mouth shut!"

Christine paled at the sudden realization that washed over her. "What if Sir Erik asks me a question? Surely I can not simply sit there and say nothing, that will be even more suspicious!"

"Don't be stupid," Carlotta groaned. "Sir Erik will not be interested in talking to you, he'll just look at you, see that you are not a beauty, and that will be the end of it!"

Christine wanted to punch Carlotta so hard and break her precious little nose…or at least pick up a glob of mud and smear it all over the girl's beautiful hair.

"Don't just stand there, you idiot!" Carlotta hissed, pushing Christine in the direction of the roses. "Go and sit and wait!"

Christine glared at her young mistress before turning and doing as she was told. This was a bad idea, she knew it was, but she was in too deep now. She had to go through with it.

As she settled down near the roses with her back to the castle, Christine realized that the only thing left for her to do was wait…wait, and pray.

* * *

Pierre gasped when he heard the herald shout Sir Erik's name. He had been having a most peaceful slumber in his chair in the great hall, when the thunderous sounds of horses could be heard in the distance, followed by the sound of trumpets announcing the knight's arrival.

At last, the time had come.

Lady Maria appeared, dressed quite elegantly, with every piece of jewelry imaginable hanging around her wrists and neck. Philippe had heard the herald as well, but chose to remain upstairs and observe his sister's betrothed from the balcony that overlooked the great hall.

"I believe Carlotta is already in the garden," Lady Maria informed her husband, smoothing the few wrinkles of our gown and running her hands through her own flaxen hair, trying to look as young as possible, although the wrinkles around her eyes could not lie.

"Good," Pierre sighed, happy that his daughter seemed to be finally accepting her fate. He took his wife's arm and led her to the entrance of the castle, smiling as the parade of horses came towards their home.

It wasn't hard to guess which one of the fearsome looking men was Sir Erik. He towered over all of them, and both Pierre and his wife felt a tremor of unease as his large black stallion approached. "W-w-welcome Sir Erik!" Pierre stammered, trying to hide his anxiety, although it was proving difficult.

Erik eyed the couple for a long moment, before dismounting from his steed, the hood remaining over his head, and the collar still drawn up to cover his face. Bernard, who had already dismounted, quickly came forward to take the reigns of Erik's horse. "My master thanks you for your kind greetings and brings you this…" he motioned behind him, where several of Erik's men-at-arms, pulled two heavy trunks. "As gifts for your warm hospitality."

Lady Maria wasted no time; she all but launched herself at the trunks, squealing happily as one of Erik's men-at-arms opened them, revealing a bounty of gold, silver, pearls, and other precious gemstones. Pierre was quite dazzled himself by the gift, although somewhat embarrassed by his wife's behavior. "I thank you, Sir Erik! 'Tis far too generous–"

Lady Maria practically elbowed her husband. "You are too kind, and we thank you for this wonderful present. Our daughter is an extremely fortunate lady to have such a caring husband."

Erik said nothing; he simply continued to eye the couple with scrutiny. Pierre's smile felt quite strained under Sir Erik's dark gaze. "W-w-won't you come in? You must be famished, my lord, after such a long journey. Please, we have a feast awaiting you and your men."

Erik looked at his men, whose mouths were watering at the thought of a good hot meal after three days of eating very little from their travels. He caught Bernard's gaze and nodded his head.

"My master thanks you for your kindness and knows that he and his men will greatly appreciate the meal…but he would very much like to meet the lady first," the steward explained.

Pierre smiled at the man's words, although Lady Maria had a vexing look that was spreading across her lovely features. "Can not your master speak for himself?" she asked.

Erik, who was about to be led inside, paused and turned on his heel, very slowly, to face the woman. Pierre himself felt his face pale at his wife's words, his dark eyes growing wide with fear. He knew very little about this knight, but one look at him and Pierre knew he was not a man to be taunted.

Lady Maria began to regret her question, as slowly, Sir Erik pushed back the black hood of his cloak, revealing his long shaggy black mane, and lowered the black fur collar, finally revealing the stark white mask that covered half of his face.

The woman grasped her husband's arm to keep from fainting.

"I can…" Erik growled, deep and low, his golden eyes locked on Lady Maria's face. "And in five languages," he added, before turning on his heel, and marching inside the castle, all of his men following, leaving a dumbfounded Pierre and Maria standing at the entrance.

Above, Philippe watched with scrutiny, the dark giant that had entered his father's great hall. So this was the infamous Sir Erik von Desslar. He did not know the man, but one look at him and the mask he wore, and Philippe knew he was the man known as the Black Knight.

"My daughter is in the garden," Pierre informed Sir Erik. "She is sitting by the roses, and requested that…that you go alone." He whispered the last part, afraid that perhaps his daughter had been too bold in her request.

However, Sir Erik seemed quite satisfied with this news. "Bernard is my steward," Erik explained. "He will take care of the business you have and see that the men are fed and given a place to sleep." Pierre nodded and motioned towards a door that led out into the gardens. It was all in Carlotta's hands now…and he only prayed that the girl would have better manners than her mother.

Even though she couldn't see him, Christine knew the moment he had entered the garden. She bit her lip and tried to calm her breathing as she imagined him coming towards her. She was so nervous she could not stop shaking, and found herself pulling up various weeds that surrounded the roses in hopes of easing her fears in some sort of task.

And then, her breathing stopped, as suddenly, the falling sun was blotted out by a great dark shadow that stood just behind her.

She couldn't see him, but one look at his giant shadowy silhouette, and Christine knew that he was not an old man near death, as Carlotta had believed.

"You are Pierre's daughter?"

The question sounded more like a bark than anything else. It caused Christine to jump at the deep thunderous tone. What should she say? Yes? No? Did she dare continue this charade? Or should she confess the truth and hope he would take pity on her? She was no longer afraid of what would happen should Carlotta's family discover her; she feared this dark knight who sounded like a raging storm!

"Let me see you."

It was not a request, but an order.

Christine took a deep breath, and slowly, turned her body until she was facing the man to whom Carlotta was engaged. Her eyes locked with his black leather boots, and slowly, they moved up, higher and higher. His legs were encased in black metal mesh, and a black tunic came down, covering his powerful muscular thighs, which looked to be the size of her body. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat as she continued to lift her eyes higher, seeing the black armor that covered his chest, making his already extremely broad chest and shoulders look even broader. His arms hung down from his sides, also encased in black armor, and looking even more muscular than his legs. He had two very powerful hands, with long calloused fingers, darkened by the hot sun. And then…there was his face.

Christine was speechless, and Erik said nothing as he watched her eyes grow wide as she gazed at him.

The angles of his face were hard and fierce. Nothing about him looked weak or soft, but extremely hard and menacing. His jaw, his chin, even his cheekbones…all of them were hard, rough angles that looked to be set in stone, not flesh. His eyes were unlike any she had ever seen: a dark amber color that seemed to flash gold. His ebony hair was long and shaggy, and hung limply on his shoulders. But the part of him that she could not take her eyes off was the one piece of him that wasn't dark: the mask that only covered the right side of his face.

He was the most terrible…and fascinating man…Christine had ever laid eyes on.

Erik also examined the woman in front of him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her. She was small, but then most people were when compared to his size. Her features were not ravishing, not the way that Pierre had bragged in his letter at least. Her skin was slightly tan, her hair was brown and somewhat unruly, and while she had curves, at least from what he could tell of her sitting down, the gown she wore was obviously meant for a woman with a larger chest.

Perhaps the thing that startled him the most were her eyes. Dark blue eyes, unlike any shade he had ever seen.

"Stand up," he commanded, deeply, but softly.

Christine woke from her trance by the thunderous sound of his voice. She did not know what to make of it; it was frightening, and yet…something about his voice felt…safe, and trustworthy.

Erik eyed her when she did not respond as quickly as he had ordered, and without any warning, he reached down, grasped one of her wrists in his giant hands, and pulled her up to her feet as if she weighed next to nothing.

Christine was still getting over the shock when Erik ordered her to turn around. Not wanting him to grasp her by the shoulders and force her to turn around, she did was she was told, feeling like a fool as he examined her. She was a human being, not some prized cow to be bought at a country fair. No doubt this was the part Carlotta had prepared her for; after examining her and realizing she was not the beauty he had expected, he would go and renounce the engagement, which would then send Pierre and his wife into a rage after discovering that Christine had deceived Sir Erik.

"Look at me."

Christine had her back to Sir Erik and softly uttered a curse, before slowly turning back to face the tall, menacing knight, biting her lip to keep from crying. She wished he would finish this, she was tired of being put on display and having her faults measured up.

She trembled as she felt his large, rough, fingers touch her chin, forcing her to lift her face and gaze into his eyes. Christine was lost in the dark gold depths of Sir Erik's mysterious eyes. She held her breath as he gazed back at her, his eyes burning with such an intensity that she thought she would surely faint.

Sir Erik released her chin and took a step back, making one last final evaluation, his eyes falling to her small tiny hands which were covered in dirt and clasped tightly together. "Yes," he murmured, more to himself than to her. "Yes…this will do."

Christine's eyes narrowed with confusion, but before she could speak, Sir Erik had grasped one of her small hands in one of his larger ones, and was practically pulling her behind him towards the castle. She literally had to run to keep up with his mighty strides.

Christine glanced over to where Carlotta said she would be watching. The flaxen haired beauty's mouth had fallen open in stunned surprise as she got a good look at the man her father had wanted her to marry, and watched with even more shock as the giant knight dragged her own servant into the castle.

This was not part of the plan!

Christine wanted to beg for Carlotta to come to her rescue, to tell Sir Erik that she was Pierre de Coleville's daughter, the woman he had come to marry, that the girl who's arm he held was just a servant, a servant who regretted getting out of bed that morning.

That feeling grew to a breaking point, when suddenly, she found herself standing in Pierre's great hall, standing beside the giant Black Knight, who's large powerful hands were grasping her shoulders, and holding her in front of him.

All of Erik's men-at-arms stopped their eating, and Bernard slowly rose from his seat, his eyes flying from his master's face, to that of the woman who stood in front of him. Pierre and Lady Maria also rose to their feet, the mirth that had been in their eyes slowly disappearing at the sight of Christine standing before Sir Erik, wearing one of Carlotta's gowns. Philippe was also watching, although he remained up on the balcony. His eyes grew wider at the sight of Christine, and his jaw hardened at the way Sir Erik held her.

Christine wanted to flee. Erik's men looked confused, and she had never seen both her master and mistress look more venomous than right now. She was done for.

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, his dark eyes blazing with fury at the servant girl. However, his voice was cut off by the thunderous sound of Sir Erik's. "I have made my choice, sir…but I do not wish to wait until tomorrow." His eyes held Christine's for a long moment and she waited with bated breath, along with everyone else, to see what fate she was being sentenced. "No…I will not wait till tomorrow," Erik confirmed. "Find me a priest. I will marry the lady tonight."


	3. Surprising Response

**Summery: **The truth of Christine's identity is revealed; how will the Black Knight respond? Needless to say, everyone is stunned by the response...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Surprising Response**_

"Good God! What on earth possessed you?"

Christine groaned as she listened to Meg's reprimands. Her head pounded, her eyes stung, and her stomach was tied up in knots. And she deserved to feel miserable.

Meg was pacing back and forth in the tiny servant's chamber that Christine occupied. Once the news reached the kitchens, Meg rose from her chair and marched down towards the place where Christine was being held, needing to hear it from her friend if the gossip was true.

One look into Christine's sorrowful blue eyes, and Meg knew the answer.

"Of all the stupid things to have done…" the pregnant woman muttered, running her hands through her copper blonde hair in aggravation. "Christine…surely you knew the risks?"

She did, and yet she had been fool enough to allow Carlotta's scheming to get the better of her.

Meg fell to her knees then, and grasped Christine's hands in her own. "Christine…you're my best friend, I don't want to see you get hurt! But…but I'm so scared…" Meg's anger gave way to sorrow, and she began to weep. Christine's heart broke at the pain her friend was feeling for her own foolishness, and wrapped her arms around the girl tightly.

As Meg wept, Christine's mind was reeling, reeling back to all the events the evening had held since Sir Erik had discovered her in the garden.

He was a menacing dark giant, and Christine couldn't take her eyes off him. She remembered how easily he picked her up by simply grasping her hand; his hands were rough and calloused from fighting in battle and wielding the heavy sword that he carried at his waist, and she felt the power and strength they possessed when he grasped her wrist.

His eyes were like those of a wolf; wild and golden. And his mask; how could she forget his mask? Everything else about him was so dark, save for the white mask that covered one side of his face. The parts of his face that she could see were not handsome…at least not the way Carlotta deemed worthy. His skin was rough, anyone could see that, and the hard set angles of his jaw and cheekbone reminded Christine of the stone gargoyles that adorned Pierre's castle. And yet, despite the harsh lines of his battle weary face…there was something that fascinated Christine, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Yet those thoughts quickly disappeared the second Sir Erik grabbed her hand and began pulling her behind him into the great hall.

And nothing…nothing could have prepared her for what transpired next.

"Find me a priest. I will marry the lady tonight."

If Sir Erik hadn't been holding Christine by her shoulders when he had made that announcement, she would have easily crumpled to the floor out of shock. Perhaps he had recognized this? His grip on her shoulders seemed to only tighten.

Pierre and Lady Maria were stunned speechless by Sir Erik's announcement. Their faces were pale, their eyes were wide, and their mouths had fallen open, but no sound was coming out. All of Sir Erik's men looked surprised as well, although more so by the reaction of their hosts, than by their master's decision.

And then the silence was broken by a high-pitched shriek of disdain.

"YOU CAN'T MARRY HER! SHE'S JUST A SERVANT!"

Everyone's head turned to see Carlotta coming in just behind Sir Erik, her face burning red with rage, her dark eyes practically bulging out of her head, and her hands rolling into fists as she glared at Christine with fury.

Lady Maria was the first to react to Carlotta's sudden outburst. "Carlotta!" she gasped, rushing to her daughter's side. "What…what on earth…" she looked her daughter up and down, her face contorting with disgust at the rags she wore. "What on earth are you wearing?"

Erik's men stared at the beautiful woman dressed in servant's garb, and then glanced back at Christine, before looking once more at Carlotta. "She…she is your daughter?" Bernard asked, looking to Pierre for confirmation. There could be no mistake, one look at the girl in rags standing next to the elegant lady of the castle, and anyone could see the resemblance. And despite the rags she wore, her hair, her skin, everything about her was flawless, even the way she held herself. "If she is your daughter…" Bernard murmured, his eyes going back to Christine. "Then…who is she?"

Pierre had been staring at this whole spectacle in stunned silence. First, the sight of Christine, standing before Sir Erik, dressed like a lady of wealth, then, the announcement that Sir Erik would marry Christine…that very night! Followed by the sight of his daughter, dressed like a servant…it was almost too much!

"Carlotta…" Pierre finally gasped, his eyes falling to his daughter's face. "W-w-what have you done?"

Lady Maria turned on her husband, her own eyes blazing with fury. "What has she done? What has SHE done? HOW CAN YOU ASK HER SOMETHING LIKE THAT!" the woman then turned on Christine, looking more venomous than Carlotta. "You filthy little bitch! THIS IS YOUR DOING!"

"THAT'S RIGHT!" Carlotta shrieked, joining in her mother's outrage. "CHRISTINE FORCED ME TO WEAR THESE RAGS, DETERMINED TO FOOL SIR ERIK AND STEAL HIM AWAY FROM ME!"

Everyone's eyes flew to Christine, and Christine yearned for death to come and free her from this horrible moment. She should have known better than to trust Carlotta, she should have known better than to even be doing this! And all the while, she could still feel the heavy pressure of Sir Erik's large hands on her shoulders…

What was he thinking? Surely he despised her, and like everyone else, believed Carlotta's lies and would most likely help Pierre with beating her to death. She wished she could take it all back, everything…

She wished she had never been born.

"YOU LITTLE SCAB!" Lady Maria shouted at the trembling servant girl. "HOW DARE YOU THREATEN MY DAUGHTER AND PULL THIS CHARADE ON OUR GUEST!"

Pierre's eyes flew to Sir Erik's, his legs trembling at the thought of the rage he would find. Bernard also shared Pierre's same fear, although his was more out of pity for the girl in question. He knew his master better than anyone, and knew that one thing Erik disliked more than anything else was deception. Especially when someone was attempting to deceive him.

Poor girl. She had no idea that she was facing the devil himself…

"HAVE YOU NOTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?" Lady Maria bellowed. "APOLOGIZE TO OUR GUEST, YOU DECEITFUL TOAD!"

Christine felt lightheaded, and her legs were shaking. She was afraid to turn and look up at Sir Erik. Most likely he would backhand her for her deceit, a punishment that she would rightly deserve. She felt no pity for Carlotta, or for humiliating her master and mistress; but she was sorry for deceiving the Black Knight, even if he did cause nothing but fear to quell in her heart.

Christine slowly turned and little by little, lifted her eyes up to the man who towered over her. The top of her head didn't even reach his shoulder, and he looked like a wall of muscle, encased in black armor. Her eyes were blurred by the frightened tears that filled them, and her lips were trembling out of fear and regret. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the face of the powerful man who could easily snap her neck in two for her insubordination and deceit. And the look she received shocked her more than any glare or slap.

Cold. Bitter cold. That was the look he held. An icy dark stare, boring into hers, his mouth set in a grim line, his jaw tightening in what surely must be hatred. Christine was frozen by that look, and it was too much for her handle. Her eyes rolled back and her legs gave way, as the cold dark abyss of fear and humiliation took hold of her.

She remembered nothing after that. When she came to, Meg and Robert were leaning over her, looking both worried and relieved.

"Meg…?"

"Sshh," Meg whispered, helping Christine to slowly sit up. "Here, drink this, it will help the pounding in your head."

Christine took the piping hot cup of tea that her friend had made for her, but looked at her surroundings with confusion. She was in the small servant's chamber that she slept in, and she was back to wearing her tattered dress and tunic. Had it all been a dream?

"W-w-what happened?"

"Drink your tea," Meg urged, not in the mood to start answering Christine's questions. She had a few of her own.

Robert, however, took pity on Christine's anxiety, and gently squeezed her hand. "You were in the great hall, and you fainted. Sir Erik was the one who brought you here," he gently explained.

"Sir Erik…" Christine whispered, the memories rushing back, making her head hurt even more. "Oh God…Oh God have mercy on me…"

"Indeed," Meg muttered, rising from where she sat and began pacing the room. Robert wanted to calm his wife down, but one look from her and he knew it was better to allow her have her way this time. Robert also knew that the look Meg was giving him was asking for him to give both herself and Christine a moment alone. He silently complied, rising from his chair, giving Christine's hand one last squeeze, before quietly leaving the room.

And then it started. Meg's lectures on foolish behavior, her voice starting out strong, filled with furiousness, before slowly dying down to one filled with fear and despair for her friend. The two women continued hugging one another tightly, both trembling for what unknown horrors Christine would have to face, when the door to the chamber burst open, causing both of them to cry out with shock.

With wide eyes, they looked up at the doorway, and gasped at the large intimidating sight of the Black Knight, his broad muscular frame easily filling the doorway.

Meg had not yet seen Sir Erik, but quickly began to understand why many quaked before him. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat as she gazed up at the man who would surely spell her doom.

Sir Erik looked at the two women, before focusing his hard cold gaze on Christine. A part of Christine told her to look away, that the man could burn her with the intensity of his eyes! But she couldn't look away; it was as if his very gaze had the same powerful hold as his hands.

"You're awake," he murmured, which sounded more like a growl than anything else. Christine didn't know how to respond. Replying "yes" to the obvious seemed foolish, so she simply nodded her head.

"Come," he commanded, holding his hand out to her.

Meg's own hold on Christine tightened at the fierce way the Black Knight spoke. Ever since he had arrived at the castle, she had been hearing nothing but fearsome stories of his epic battles and victories, and the horrible ways he punished his enemies. She had heard that his temper was as fowl as his reputation, and the thought of her dear friend being subjected to it was more than Meg could bear.

"Come," Sir Erik growled again, although this time there was more of an edge to his voice.

Christine didn't hesitate, she quickly rose to her feet, her hand reaching out to squeeze's Meg's, before turning to face her doom.

She gasped as she felt Sir Erik's large rough hand enclose over her own. She bit her lip as she felt him pull her out of the chamber and into the hall, before leading her back to Pierre's great hall, the way an executioner led his prisoner.

_I am done for_, Christine thought. They were going to kill her.

Pierre was sitting in his great armchair, his head buried in his hands, while Lady Maria sat in a chair next to him, her fingers running lovingly through her daughter's beautiful flaxen waves. Carlotta had removed Christine's horrible rags, and was wearing a striking scarlet gown with gold trim, and an extremely daring neckline that practically caused her breasts to overflow the fabric. All around the great hall were Erik's men, some standing in clusters, murmuring to one another, others, like Bernard, standing off by themselves, lost in thought. Everyone froze at the sound of Sir Erik's thunderous strides as he entered the room, his hand holding that of the servant girl, who looked so tiny compared to the knight.

Carlotta grinned as she saw Christine's frightened face, and she sat up just a little straighter, proudly showing her heaving bosom for Sir Erik's eyes.

The Black Knight glanced at the fair-haired beauty, his eyes only lingering a moment, before turning his gaze onto Lady Maria, who immediately flew from her chair to come to his side.

"Oh there you are, my lord! We were afraid that perhaps you had gotten lost in our home. Oh please, do come and sit by the fire," she waved her hand towards the chair she had been occupying, to which Carlotta smiled, leaning forward just slightly to give him an even better glimpse of her cleavage. "Please, do come and sit, and we…" she glanced at Christine, and the girl shrank at the venomous stare she received from her mistress. "Shall deal with that."

Sir Erik surprised everyone, however, when he did not move to sit, but rather, brought Christine out in front of him once more, his hands clasping her shoulders. "That won't be necessary," he answered, his voice even, but deep and hard like thunder.

Lady Maria glanced at Christine, and then back at her guest, while forcing a smile despite her confusion. "Of course," she murmured as realization came upon her. "Yes, of course, naturally you have a right to choose and inflict her punishment. By all means, my lord, 'tis the least we can offer, after the horrible way you were treated–"

"But Mama!" Carlotta wailed. "I wanted to beat Christine!"

"Silence!" Lady Maria hissed at her daughter, something that neither Pierre nor Carlotta were used to hearing. She quickly softened her tone, smiling sweetly at the pale face of her daughter. "I'm sure Sir Erik would be more than happy to share the task with you."

Christine was trembling, although she tried to stand tall and hold her chin high, knowing that no matter how hard she pleaded, they were determined to punish her. Not that she would plead; Christine knew that pride was not something servants could afford to have, but right now, she clung to it, the same way Sir Erik clasped her shoulders.

Erik eyed the pouting girl for a moment, and then moved his hard gold gaze to that of Pierre, who seemed to shrink even further into his armchair. "She is your servant."

Was that a question? It sounded more like a statement than anything, but Pierre nodded his head. "Yes, my lord, and I apologize for her behavior–"

"So you should," Sir Erik growled. "As much as we want to blame the behavior of our servants on themselves," Erik's eyes fell on Carlotta, whose lovely smile vanished at the cold way he looked at her. "We must be prepared to take full responsibility. And I hold you responsible sir, for this deception."

Pierre paled and looked frantically from his wife, to his daughter, to Bernard, and back to Sir Erik. "I…I…f-f-forgive me, my lord…f-f-for this rude disobedience…"

"I dislike being the butt of another man's joke," Erik growled again, and Christine trembled as she felt his growl resonate in the very palms that held her shoulders. "And I am not a man to be made a fool of."

"Forgive me, my lord!" Pierre pleaded, panic rising in his voice. "I…I swear…I did not know of…I had no idea…" his eyes flew to his daughter. "You silly girl! What were you thinking!"

"Don't shout at her!" Lady Maria defended, her arms flying around Carlotta, who was pretending to be crying from her father's accusation. "Carlotta is innocent in this! You heard what she said earlier! The servant girl put her up to this! How dare you accuse–"

"ENOUGH!"

Everyone froze at the sound of Sir Erik's thunderous roar. He was glaring at the three de Coleville's, fury blinding his reason. "A man who can not control his wife and child is not a man at all!" he spat at Pierre, who shrank even further into his chair. Lady Maria and Carlotta stared at Sir Erik in shock, but were utterly speechless, something Erik was most grateful.

He turned towards his steward and barked a question. "Has the priest arrived?"

Bernard stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back. "Two of your men-at-arms are bringing him as we speak. He should be here within the hour."

"Good," Erik growled. He wanted to be out of this madhouse before midnight.

Pierre's ears perked up at the mention of the priest. Sir Erik was actually going through with the marriage? "My lord," he carefully addressed the Black Knight. "Despite all that has happened…please know, that I am but a humble servant to you for doing what you are about to do."

Lady Maria's own brilliant smile returned, and she quickly pushed Carlotta out in front of her. The girl did not look as eager as she had earlier. "Such an honor to have you in our family," she practically purred. "And such an honor to know that our precious jewel will have such a wealthy, and famous husband–"

"Are you deaf or stupid?"

Lady Maria froze and her smile quickly vanished at the harsh words that Sir Erik used. "W-w-what?" Even Pierre and Carlotta were stunned speechless.

"I meant what I said earlier," Erik growled, turning Christine to face him and holding her gaze for a long moment. "I have made my choice. I will marry the lady, _this_ lady…tonight."

There was a long deafening silence. No one moved, let alone blink as the reality of Sir Erik's words washed over them.

And then…

"WHAT?"

The screech came from Carlotta.

"YOU…YOU CAN'T MARRY HER! SHE'S A SERVANT! SHE'S MY SERVANT! SHE'S POOR! SHE'S UGLY! SHE'S–"

"My choice." Erik growled, leaning his masked face down towards the screeching girl, his voice so deep that even the stones at their feet felt as if they were trembling from the sound. "And if any of you wish to challenge me on my choice for a bride…" his hand grasped the handle of his sword, which many knew the Black Knight called "ghost maker", and everyone shrunk back, their mouths closing and their protests dying in their throats.

However, the most shocked out of everyone was Christine, who stared up at the man who had just claimed her for his bride.

"Good," Erik growled, his hold on the sword's hilt relaxing. "And don't worry about providing my future wife and I a chamber. We'll be leaving as soon as the ceremony is complete."

Just then, the door to the great hall burst open, and two of Erik's men-at-arms, along with a confused-looking priest, entered the room. "We have found the priest!" one of the men declared. The priest stared up at Sir Erik with wide eyes, his face paling at the sight of the mask.

"Well done," Erik murmured to his men. "Come, Father," he motioned toward the priest. "Let us go to this castle's chapel and finish the business."

Christine stared up at the knight, still shocked by the man's declaration of marriage. Surely this was some dream, that any moment she would awaken and the day would just be beginning. She would go and tell Meg of her dream, hoping that her friend would laugh at the silliness of it all…but as Sir Erik's mighty hand gripped her wrist and began dragging her behind him towards the chapel…she realized that this wasn't a dream, but a nightmare…a nightmare that she was living!

Robert had been tending the fire in the great hall when he overheard Sir Erik make his announcement. He had rushed off to fetch his wife, and the two of them were staring in shock and horror as the powerful Black Knight dragged his future bride down the hallway that led to the castle's meager chapel. For the briefest moment, Christine caught their eyes, and they stared back at her with helpless worry, knowing there was nothing they could do.

High above the great hall, Philippe had been watching the whole seen. His anger had been growing and growing by the second, and it took every ounce of willpower that he contained to not leap over the balcony rail and challenge the Black Knight.

But Philippe knew that such a challenge would be foolish. The man was twice his size, and an experienced soldier who knew more about combat than Philippe could dare to dream. As much as Philippe hated to admit it, he knew he was no match for the Black Knight. At least not in a sword fight…

But in cunning? An evil grin spread across Philippe's features. He had heard that the Black Knight was a force to be reckoned with, but he had never heard anything about the man's wits. Philippe was sure he could outsmart the knight if he so wished it. The Black Knight may be taking Christine as his bride, but it would be Philippe who would have her writhing beneath him in the end.


	4. Unexpected Marriage

**Summery: **Christine marries the Black Knight, despite her feelings of uneasiness. What sort of husband will Sir Erik be?

**Tapestry of Deceit **

**_Unexpected Marriage_**

This was happening…this was truly happening.

Everyone was staring in shocked wonder as the priest recited the age-old vows before the mismatched couple, thinking the exact same thing. Sir Erik was going through with this; he was determined to marry the servant girl.

Carlotta was furious; she refused to watch and had stalked off to her room, screaming the whole way. Lady Maria had no interest in watching either, but one dark look from Sir Erik and she knew that both she, and her husband, would be forced to attend as witnesses. Pierre de Coleville was still speechless after learning that Sir Erik meant to marry Christine instead of Carlotta, even after learning the truth that the girl had deceived him. And standing far in the back of the chapel, Meg and her husband Robert watched with dread as the priest turned his attention to their friend, and asked her if she would take the Black Knight for her husband.

A strange haze had fallen over Christine ever since Sir Erik had brought her out into the great hall. She was so afraid of what her fate would be, but this had not been something she had even comprehended.

Why on earth had he insisted on marrying her? He was a knight! A man who owned land, who had a great fortune, and she…she was just a servant, with no money, no home, no family…nothing. Surely such marriages were against the law? She had heard stories of how peasants and servants were forbidden to form any sort of attachments with land-owning nobles. Even the priest seemed shocked by Sir Erik's order. But no one dared refuse him whenever he gave that hard, golden glare, one that still caused Christine to shiver, although a part of her still could not deny that she found the man fascinating.

A sudden squeeze on her hand and Christine came back to her senses. The priest had been asking her a question, and it suddenly dawned on her what exactly that question was.

She looked up at Sir Erik, her face still pale with shock and foreboding. Even now, as he stood next to her, reciting marriage vows, he looked menacing. Did he ever blink? Did his expression ever change? He looked at her with that harsh golden glare, his jaw clenched tightly, his lips forming a thin, grim line. She was afraid.

And yet…she was curious too.

Even after learning the truth, he still insisted on marrying her. She remembered his words perfectly, they were still echoing through her head: "I have made my choice." He chose her; her, the plain poor servant…over Pierre's beautiful, noble daughter.

All her life Christine yearned to be wanted by someone…perhaps she had found him?

One quick glance towards her master and mistress, and Christine knew that should she refuse Sir Erik, her fate would be one of great pain and misery. And far in the distance, Christine saw candlelight capture the silver glow of Philippe's blonde head. No one else had noticed his presence; he stood just outside the chapel. But Christine saw his expression, and it was curled into a cruel sneer, filled with horrifying promise. She turned her head and looked back up at the giant dark knight, who held her hand most tightly, but not painfully.

The devil and the deep blue sea. That was her choice.

…And she chose the devil.

* * *

"Make ready the horses," Erik growled to Bernard as they exited the chapel. "I want to be rid of this place as soon as possible."

"Aye, my lord," Bernard obeyed, ordering several of Erik's men to fetch their steeds.

Erik looked down at his new bride, whose hand he still held tightly. In truth, he was not comfortable with releasing her due to all the venomous stares she was receiving from de Coleville and his family. While Carlotta had made a show of retreating to her chamber, she had reappeared again, an obnoxious pout forming on her pretty pink lips as she glared back and forth between himself and his bride.

There was another face that Erik had noticed just as he was exciting the chapel; a boy who didn't look to be much older than his bride, but who had the same flaxen hair as Carlotta and her mother, and who was sneering at her as they left the chapel. Erik looked down at Christine and noticed the way she trembled as they past him; he had no idea who the boy was or what he was to his wife, but he did not like it. The boy relinquished his sneer when Erik cast him a frightful glare, before moving his arm in a possessive, yet also protective, motion, around his bride's shoulders.

The sudden gesture shocked Christine on several levels. The Black Knight did indeed look strong and powerful, but in that sudden movement Christine felt how muscular he truly was, despite the armor he wore. There was something else as well–something secure about the way he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, something that felt…right. She glanced up at him, curious to see if he was watching her with those intense eyes, but found that he was staring straight ahead, leading her towards the great hall's entrance.

"The trunks of jewels are yours to keep," Sir Erik growled to Pierre. "I brought them as a gift, both for your…hospitality…" the word really had no meaning for the de Coleville's, Erik concluded. "And as a bride price."

"BUT I AM THAT BRIDE!" Carlotta shouted, stomping her feet most indignantly. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO MARRY ME! I AM YOUR BETROTHED!"

Erik realized that the best way to respond to Carlotta's shouts was to ignore her. Nothing infuriated the flaxen beauty more. "Baron de Coleville," Sir Erik addressed, looking directly at Pierre. "It may not have been your choice, but you did provide the lady, therefore the gift is still yours."

"But…but she has no dowry!" Lady Maria screeched hysterically. It was easy to see where Carlotta got her bad habits.

Erik cocked his visible brow at the woman's words. "And does your daughter?"

Lady Maria shrank at Sir Erik's question. While she denied it, she knew, just like her husband, that the only thing that kept the family from becoming true paupers was the fact that their name was of noble birth. But any wealth that went with that name was an illusion; an illusion that Pierre had been hoping to use to fool the knight into marrying his daughter. Sir Erik then turned his gaze onto Pierre, but the baron had already adverted his eyes, knowing that this was the second time his family had try to fool their guest.

"You're quite lucky, Baron de Coleville," Erik hissed. "I've challenged men for crimes far lesser than your lies."

Pierre's eyes went wide at Sir Erik's threat, and both Lady Maria and Carlotta paled at the knight's meaning.

"'Tis rare that I show mercy," Erik murmured, his voice a deep low growl. "I only choose to do so because I received what I came for," he looked down at Christine and felt his breath catch momentarily as her dark blue eyes caught his gaze. He had studied her many times since he had arrived; yet he did not understand why looking at her now was effecting him.

"The horses are ready, my lord!" Bernard announced.

Erik lifted his head and nodded to his steward. He then looked down at his bride, his eyes glazed over once more with their stone, icy hardness. "If you have any possessions worth taking, fetch them now. Do not keep me waiting."

Christine was momentarily stung by the harshness of his words. She did not know him, but she found she deeply missed the feel of his arm around her. Had the moment of tenderness that she swore she had seen in his gaze just then, been a figment of her imagination?

Christine shook her head, knowing she would have plenty of time to contemplate her new husband…

…Husband. She was married!

"Christine!"

Christine woke from her momentary trance and rushed over to her friend who had hissed her name. Meg's eyes were filled with so many emotions; fear, anxiety, worry, sadness, joy–she couldn't speak, she simply wrapped her arms around Christine and hugged her tightly.

"Hear me now, Christine Daae," Robert murmured, also embracing the trembling girl that his wife held. "You are family to us. Should anything…and I mean, _anything_ happen, you will always find sanctuary in our home."

Christine smiled and quickly wiped the tears that stung her eyes, turning to give the man who she had looked to as an older brother for so many years, a fierce hug. However, his words did worry her. It was as if he were contemplating the worst…

"Take good care of yourself," Meg sniffled, trying to smile despite the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Christine nodded her head and gave her friend another tight hug, before letting go and returning to the castle's entrance, where the Black Knight stood by a fearsome looking black stallion.

"Have you no possessions?" he inquired, noticing her empty arms.

Christine shook her head. What possessions did she have? Three tattered dresses and a ragged blanket that barely kept out the winter chill. No, she would leave those things behind; they were not worth retrieving.

Erik however, did notice her quick glance at something in the great hall. He followed her eyes to where a giant tapestry hung over the de Coleville's massive fireplace. It was richly detailed, showing a dark blue ocean, with tall dark mountains towering above the surf. Atop one of the mountains was a castle, and surrounding the castle were fields of roses of every color imaginable. The castle had a single balcony, and there, standing and facing the rising sun, were a knight and his lady, their hands clasped together while they looked out over their tiny kingdom. Erik was surprised he had not noticed the tapestry when he had entered the great hall; he was so busy with meeting his future wife that he had not taken the time to examine the castle's interior.

"Well?"

Christine jumped at the slightly thunderous question of the Black Knight. She quickly shook her head, her cheeks flooding with color as she realized she had been lost eying the tapestry.

Sir Erik glanced once more at the tapestry, before nodding his head, satisfied with his wife's answer. "Then let us be off."

Christine noticed that there was no carriage, and she had never ridden a horse in her life! She wasn't sure exactly how she was going to–

Her questions disappeared when she suddenly felt Sir Erik's powerful hands grip her about the waist and hoist her up onto his stallion.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she felt his arms, and for the briefest moment, she had been pulled close to his body, feeling the heat of his flesh rise from beneath the armor. The horse was extremely large, and Christine gripped the beast's reigns as she realized how high off the ground she was. However, a feeling of nervousness quickly squashed her fears over the animal as Sir Erik vaulted up behind her, taking the reigns from her trembling hands, and pushing her body against his.

She went stiff as she felt his armored chest touch her back, and she swore her heart stopped beating as she felt one of his powerful arms wrap around her waist.

No words were spoken, no farewell greetings were given; the Black Knight simply gave a mighty shout, before digging his heels into his horse, causing the animal to break into a fast paced gallop, his men-at-arms quickly following.

With the wind whipping against her face, Christine wondered what destiny the horse was carrying her to. She still could not believe that when the day had started she was simply a lowly servant. Now, she was married to a wealthy knight, a fearsome soldier who filled her heart with apprehension, but who also had rescued her from her life with the de Coleville's. What was he thinking? She yearned to know, but did not dare to turn her head to see his face. She simply concentrated on holding tight to the horse's mane, and tried to keep her wits about her, despite the way he pressed her body against his own.

Erik was all too aware of the woman pressed against him. He tried to ignore the scent of sunshine and roses that filled her hair. He tried to ignore how small her figure was…and how perfectly it seemed to fit against his broad chest. And he desperately tried to ignore the ache in his loins as they continued to ride northward, towards his home.

It had been quite a long time since he had been with a woman. But Erik knew what it was like to have willpower made of iron…and despite the ache he felt, he knew that he could will it away if he concentrated hard enough.

It was a three-day journey to his castle, and Erik knew they would have to stop to rest. While he had driven his men without little rest, he now had to think about…others…in his party.

Others…like his wife. His wife. He was married…

Erik had never thought about marriage until he found it became absolutely necessary. And even then, he was most reluctant. A wife meant many things, many obnoxious things from what he had observed at the de Coleville's. And yet, he found his arm tightening around his bride, a great feeling of possessiveness and pride filling his chest.

He could only imagine what his men were thinking when he announced his choice for a wife. They simply didn't understand, but Erik knew that when he chose the servant girl over the beautiful and voluptuous Carlotta, he had made the right decision.

He found himself contemplating his new bride then. Despite the way Carlotta and her mother spat at Christine's appearance, Erik did not find her off-putting. Her features weren't as striking as Carlotta's, but then she was a servant, and did not waste her day away pampering her skin and pluming her hair the way many young women of nobility did. A woman who was not overly obsessed with her looks was a woman who saw value in other things beyond her own vanity.

Yes…the more he thought about it, the more pleased Erik became. He had made the right decision.

But a cloud fell across his eyes as he remembered the boy who had been sneering at her when they had left the chapel. Pierre never mentioned having a son, and yet Erik could not think who else the boy could be; he was dressed finely, and he did resemble Carlotta, what other conclusion was there? And like his sister, the boy seemed to have an air about him, as if he were already master of the castle and could do whatever he wished.

Erik felt a growl rise up in his throat as he wondered how much the boy had gotten away with. The way he had looked at Christine, and the way she trembled when they passed; had the boy already sampled Christine's sweet flesh?

His arm tightened even more around her at the thought.

Christine stiffened at the sudden feel of him pulling her closer. His arm was like a vice! She was grateful for its strength, her fear of falling from the horse had lessoned, and his body did provide a sheltering warmth against the night's cold wind. Yet there was something about the way that he held her to him that caused Christine to tremble with apprehension…both towards the man, as well as towards the strange feelings churning inside her.

Erik had taken notice of how stiff she had become in his arms; it was quite the opposite of how she felt earlier, when he had caught her from fainting in Pierre's great hall. She felt so limp, lifeless almost, and Erik frowned as he saw the color drain from her cheeks. He barked for one of the servants to help him, and a large man with a sandy-brown beard, crying out her name in worry, came towards him, prepared to take the girl, but Erik refused. Instead, he ordered the servant to lead him to her chamber, despite the protests being shouted all around him. The servant nodded his head, although he eyed Erik warily, before leading him to Christine's tiny chamber.

One look at the room and Erik knew he could not allow Christine to spend one more night there. The place was cramped, the bed was made of straw and looked to be infested with some kind of insect, the blanket was tattered, there were large cracks in the walls and ceiling, and he spotted several rats scurrying out of sight.

He felt his fists clench with fury at the disgusting way the de Coleville's looked after their servants. Much to his reluctance, he placed Christine down upon the bed, and slowly backed out of the room, while the servant who had led him there fled the place, only to later return with a short pregnant woman. He stood outside the chamber, cloaked in the shadows, and listened to the two servants whisper over the girl. At least she had some friends in this wretched place.

The second he heard Christine speak, he felt his breathing resume to normal. He did not understand it, but for some reason, Erik felt a deep urge to protect her. But he listened to the conversation between the pregnant woman and the servant girl, and his fists tightened once more as he heard the whole plan that had she had concocted with Pierre's daughter. Carlotta may have been the instigator, but Christine was not innocent either.

It was a rash decision, but Erik was determined. He took the newly revived servant girl into the great hall, and made his intentions known once more. No one looked as shocked by his decision than Christine herself. A proper punishment, he thought, forcing her to marry a monster, which was exactly what his enemies called him. It was also, the best insult to de Coleville and his sniveling daughter for their deceit.

They continued riding northward until Bernard's horse sped up to join that of his master's. "My lord!" he shouted. "I know you prefer to give the order of when we stop…but perhaps…?"

Erik glared at his steward, but the sudden feeling of Christine's head rolling back onto his shoulder caused Erik to pull on the reigns and slow his horse to a trot. He looked down to find his new bride had fallen asleep, despite the thunderous way they had been riding.

"Aye," Erik murmured. "There is a village nearby. Let us go forth and find lodging."

Bernard let out a sigh of relief and turned to Erik's men-at-arms, ordering several men to run up ahead and find an inn.

Erik gazed down at the sleeping woman in his arms, and gently brushed several strands of brown hair from her face. Amazing; this girl who had been trembling with fear only a few moments ago had now fallen asleep in the arms of a monster.

He gritted his teeth and summoned all his willpower as he urged his horse forward. He was a knight famous for his battle plans and surprise attacks. He was not going to back down on this plan, no matter what the temptation. And he was not going to allow the maiden to ambush a surprise attack on himself, either.


	5. Insightful Discoveries

**Summery: **Sir Erik begins the long trek home with his new bride. Both find themselves facing emotions they have never felt before; emotions that are both exciting and disturbing...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Insightful Discoveries**_

_"Christine…"_

_The girl froze as she heard the one voice she dreaded above all others murmur her name, like a snake stalking its prey._

_"Christine…"_

_She tried to ignore the voice and continue her work in the garden, tending the roses that were in full bloom, but the voice continued hissing, and it sounded as if it were coming closer…and closer…_

_"Christine…"_

_His shadow. He was standing right behind her, and she couldn't move. She couldn't even scream, even though she was trying._

_And then she felt his rough hands grab her by the arms and hoist her up to her feet, turning her and shaking her like a rag doll._ _"DON'T IGNORE ME!"_ _he roared in her face._

_Christine twisted in his arms, hating the way he held her, hating the way his breath stank of wine and ale. His fingers dug into her flesh, bruising her skin, while he pulled her against his body, his arousal digging against her stomach, making Christine want to retch._

_"YOU'RE MINE! YOU HEAR? I WON'T LET ANYONE TAKE YOU FROM ME!"_

_Christine finally found her voice and cried out, her fingers going to the man's face, trying to scratch her way free, trying to claw him away from her, fighting, doing whatever she could–_

"NO!"

Christine gasped as she sat up in the bed, her hair sticking to her brow, her body trembling from the nightmare she had just been having.

It was a dream; it had all been a dream.

She sighed and collapsed back against the pillows of the bed, her hand rising to her chest to help calm her breathing.

And then her eyes flew open once more and she sat up straight as she realized…she had no idea where she was!

"The Rose and Serpent Inn," growled a chillingly familiar voice from one of the dark corners of the room.

Christine swore her heart stopped beating at the frightening sight of Sir Erik, emerging from the shadows, as if he had been one with the darkness. No one would be able to convince her otherwise, at least not yet.

His golden eyes were fierce and intense, and Christine clutched the blankets even tighter to her trembling body as he slowly moved away from the corner, and stood at the foot of her bed.

It was then that Christine got a good look at the room she was in. It was small, but much warmer than the servant's chamber that she occupied back at the de Coleville's castle. The bed was somewhat scratchy, due to the straw mattress, but the sheets were clean, and the blankets warm. She then realized, much to her horror…that her dress was gone! She had no memory of coming to the inn, and definitely no memory of removing her ragged gown! She wore a simple white shift, which in all honesty, was not very revealing, but still, she clutched the blankets tightly to her body.

It probably made no difference, she found herself thinking. His eyes looked as though they could burn through the fabric.

"You were already asleep when we arrived, late last night," Sir Erik softly informed, his voice still a deep, low rumble, that caused the hairs on the back of Christine's neck to stand on end. "The innkeeper said this was the finest room." Compared to the place where he had slept, it was a palace.

Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, and felt her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. "My…my dress?" her voice was practically a squeak.

Sir Erik arched his one visible brow at her question. "'Tis no more."

Christine's eyes went wide. What was she going to wear? She couldn't travel the rest of the way to the Black Knight's castle in only the shift she wore!

"Here," Christine looked up to see Sir Erik throw a small bundle down at the foot of the bed. "A gift, from the innkeeper's wife. Your dress was nothing but rags; she kindly has given you one of her own, and it was her who undressed you last night," Erik explained, although he had to admit he enjoyed watching her blush.

Christine was thankful for the new gown and wished she had something to offer the good woman who had helped her. But new questions started to rise her head, questions in regards to…the man who towered before her. He was her husband…and by law, he did have certain rights…

"My…my lord?" Christine murmured, her cheeks glowing the brightest shade of red Erik had ever seen. "Last…last night…did…that is, was I…" she looked up at him and was surprised to find him smirking, while staring at her most intently. It was the first time Christine had ever seen the menacing Black Knight smile…if one could call it that.

Erik had to admit he enjoyed watching her squirm and blush while she tried to delicately ask the question he knew she was struggling to understand. He thought that he would perhaps tease her, make her think what he could tell she feared, but in the end, he chose not to. She had already consented to marry him, wasn't that punishment enough?

"I slept in the room next door," he explained, watching her intently as relief flooded her blue eyes.

Christine didn't know what to say. She was grateful, yes, but…she was his wife now, and should he wish to share a bed with her…

She shook her head, deciding to worry about that later.

"Come, it is early and we have a long journey ahead of us." Without another word, Christine watched as he left the room, his boots sounding like soft, rumbling thunder, with every retreating step.

A long sigh escaped her lips, and slowly, she rose from the bed, taking the dress that the innkeeper's wife had left her, and hurrying to put it on. As she dressed, she began to wonder about her new husband. If he had slept in the other room, why had he been there when she awoke? And had he heard her cry out from her dream? He did not mention it, but he was already in the room when she awoke.

A shiver went through Christine's body as she recalled the terrifying dream. She thought she had recognized the voice of her attacker, but she could not see his face. It frightened her, how real the dream had felt. And it frightened her even more as she began to suspect that perhaps the man of her nightmares…was the man she had recently married.

After a hearty breakfast of porridge and sausages, Christine found herself once more on Sir Erik's tall black steed, her new husband sitting right behind her, one powerful hand gripping the reins, the other wrapped around her body as they rode at a quick pace northward.

Ever since her dream, Christine had a hard time looking at the man she had married. Throughout breakfast, she kept her eyes on her plate, avoiding his fierce gaze as much as possible. Thankfully, Bernard, Sir Erik's steward, provided her with friendly conversation which made her feel more at ease since her recent and sudden marriage.

"My wife, Ophelia, will be so happy to have another lady about the castle; there are only the servants for her to talk to, but she knows that they are busy with their many chores, so she will look most forward to getting acquainted with you," Bernard explained, wiping porridge from his beard.

Christine smiled as Bernard continued to tell her stories about his wife and their two sons, and she realized with a heavy heart, that in many ways, Bernard reminded her of Robert, and while she had yet to meet Ophelia, she sounded in many ways like Meg. Her smile faded as she thought of her dear friends; would she ever see them again?

Erik kept his eyes focused intently on Christine's face while she ate and listened to Bernard chatter. He had taken notice how she was trying to avoid looking at him, although every now and then he would catch her glancing in his direction, only to quickly look away, hoping that he hadn't noticed.

His eyes narrowed as he recalled her soft, desperate cries, while she slept. The noises had woken him from his own fitful slumber, and he easily crept inside the room she occupied to see what perhaps was troubling her.

What had she been dreaming? What was it that caused her such fear? A part of him was tempted to wake her, and somewhere, deep inside, he felt a yearning to comfort and protect her, but he quickly squashed those feelings, and watched as she awoke with a start, her face slick with sweat and her breasts heaving rather deliciously from beneath her shift. He quickly squashed that feeling as well.

After the meal, Erik gave the command to move out, his eyes remaining focused on Christine as she obediently followed his men outside. Even when he lifted her up onto his horse, she was avoiding his eyes, and he found, much to his own surprise, how much it bothered him! His arm went around her body perhaps a little more roughly than he had intended, causing her to gasp as he pulled her against his frame, and he gave a mighty roar to urge the horses forward.

As they rode north, Erik had a million thoughts flying through his head, each involving the girl that sat stiff-backed against him. Why was she avoiding him? What was troubling her? And who had she been dreaming about? The only words he could make out when he heard her crying were "no". What had happened in her dreams? He couldn't stop obsessing over it!

He continued pulling her tighter against him, and his frown only deepened as he felt her body's resistance to relax. Last night she had gone limp in his arms, falling asleep against him as if it were the most natural thing to do. And last night she didn't avoid his eyes either! He remembered those eyes of hers; haunting, deep, sorrowful…a shade of blue that he had never seen, except perhaps when a storm struck the sea near his home. He wanted to look into those eyes, but she refused to meet his gaze and it was infuriating him!

Yet what perhaps infuriated Erik more…was the fact that it was bothering him at all. He knew he was not a handsome man, and he knew that his mask could be frightening. Naturally that was the most likely reason as to why she cringed from his gaze, after all, he depended on his menacing looks to drive fear into his enemies and to gain whatever it was he sought. But why did it bother him now? It never had before! And he had made a vow to not let this marriage be more than what he intended. That was why he chose the girl in the first place!

He muttered a curse to the wind and pulled on the reins of his horse.

Christine gasped as she realized they were slowing down. Apparently she wasn't the only one who was surprised, even Bernard and Sir Erik's other men-at-arms looked shocked by their master's gesture.

"Is something wrong, my lord?" Bernard asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.

"Aye," Erik muttered, before climbing down from his horse with ease. "The horses need rest. There is a pond over there. Water them and we shall soon be on our way."

Christine watched as he began to stomp in a different direction, away from the others, leaving her on top of the giant beast.

Bernard frowned at Erik's strange behavior, but quickly came to Christine's rescue, helping her down from the animal, before taking the horse's reins in one hand, and leading it along with his own, towards the pond Erik had pointed to.

Christine followed Bernard, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to see where Erik had gone. He had marched up a small hill just ahead of them, and was staring at the horizon in the distance, his black cloak billowing in the summer wind.

"Best leave him be," Bernard sighed as he patted one of the horses while it drank. "When he's in a foul mood, it's always best to leave him be."

Christine looked up at the steward, her brow furrowed slightly. "How long have you known Sir Erik?"

Bernard chuckled as old memories floated through his head. "Oh bless me, a better question would be how long have I not known him," he grinned. "Ten years ago he was knighted, and I've been his steward ever since. But I knew him long before then, since we were boys, really."

Christine smiled a little, trying to imagine the imposing Black Knight as a child. "What was he like? I confess, I can only envision him as the man he is now."

Bernard chuckled again at Christine's observation. "In truth, I don't think he was much different then as he is now. He was always a daunting figure, even as a lad. He towered above all the other boys, and he was always getting into fights, and he always won them as well," Bernard grinned at the memories. "I remember one time, we couldn't have been more than…twelve, I daresay. There was this little imp named William, thought it would be funny to dump a bucket of pig slop on Erik's unsuspecting head," Bernard started laughing, the memory so clear he could see it taking place once more. "Oh the poor boy never knew what hit him! Erik walloped him good; in fact, I would wager he still has the bruises from that fight!"

Christine found herself giggling at the story, imagining a spoiled boy, like Philippe had been…and still was, in many ways, getting what he deserved after playing a horrible prank like that. But the merriment in her eyes died as she gazed at the dark figure of the Black Knight, noticing the way that his great broad shoulders seemed to slump slightly…as if he carried a tremendous weight.

"Why does Sir Erik wear a mask?" Christine asked, not even fully realizing the question that had escaped her lips until it was too late.

The mirth that was in Bernard's eyes quickly disappeared. Christine looked to him, hoping he would answer her question, but he immediately avoided her eyes, concentrating on the horse that was drinking.

"Bernard?"

"I can not say, my lady," he replied in a crisp, cold tone. Christine was taken aback by the sudden icy edge of the steward's voice, as well as the formality in which he had addressed her. Bernard sighed and slowly lifted his eyes to Christine's, a troubled cloud overshadowing his face. "Forgive me, I did not mean to be harsh, 'tis only…well…" he lifted his eyes towards the hill and gazed upon his master for a moment. "Sir Erik is a man of many secrets, some of which I do not know. And his reasons for wearing a mask are extremely personal. I am not the man you can ask…and I have no right to tell."

Christine bit her lip and turned her gaze once more to that of the Black Knight. He was an imposing man, a frightful man, a man that kept her constantly on edge with his piercing eyes and thunderous voice. And yet, as she gazed at his figure now, she felt her heart ache for the first time since knowing him, with a longing to comfort the demons that haunted him.

Bernard looked up from the horse when he heard Christine's soft footsteps retreat from his side. His eyes widened as he watched her climb the hill towards his master, and he bit his lip with apprehension. "My lady!" he called out. "'Tis best that you leave the Master be with his thoughts!" But she paid his warnings no heed as she continued to ascend the hill.

Erik heard her footsteps even before she had reached him, and his back immediately stiffened, his powerful arms folding across his armored chest. "Yes, my lady?" he growled, his back still kept to her.

Christine swallowed the nervous lump she felt her throat, and then took a deep breath as she continued her assent until she was standing directly by his side. She said nothing, only shared his view of the horizon in silence, feeling that it was best right now to not say anything.

It was only midday, but the sky was already beginning to darken. In the west, storm clouds were brewing and heading directly towards them. Christine shivered slightly as she heard the soft, but menacing rumbles of thunder in the distance. "Looks like a storm is coming," she whispered.

"Aye," Erik replied, his voice not much different than the thunder in the distance.

"Do you think we shall be caught in it?" she asked, turning to look at him for the first time since that morning.

Erik continued to keep his eyes focused on the horizon. "Perhaps. We still have a long journey ahead of us and the next village is not for another fifty miles."

Christine wrapped her own arms around her body as she imagined them riding through the cold rain that the storm seemed to promise. "How far is it to your…" she paused, remembering that she was his wife now. "Our home?"

Erik felt his lips curve upward ever so slightly from the words she used. "A two day journey at most. My…that is, our castle," he corrected, "is on the border with the sea."

"The sea?" Her question came out more as a gasp than anything else. She had no idea that her new home was so far from where she had grown up.

Erik turned then to fully face her, his eyes capturing hers in a memorizing stare. "Have you ever been to the sea?"

Christine felt her breathing catch in her throat once more at the intense way he looked at her. She couldn't find her voice, so she simply shook her head. In truth, she had never traveled beyond the village near the de Coleville's castle. She had heard stories about the sea from various guests that had stayed at the castle, but never had she seen the ocean itself.

Erik studied her for a moment longer, before moving one of his massive arms around her shoulders and leading her back down the hill. "Come, we should continue our journey before the storm comes."

Christine mutely nodded her head, her entire body very much aware of the Black Knight's powerful arm that was now around her. Nothing more was spoken once they reached the horses. Sir Erik once again lifted her up onto his stallion, before moving up behind her. Much to Christine's surprise, however, he did not move his arm to go around her waist as he had done all those times before. His arms were around her body while he held the reins, but Christine found that she missed the feel of his arm holding her against him.

She was convinced it was due to the security she felt while riding, nothing more.

As predicted, the storm came within a few hours of setting out. Christine found herself burrowing against Sir Erik's armored chest, trying to shield herself from the cold rain that hammered against her body. Erik was all too aware of Christine's movements, although he tried to think nothing of them. Were she riding with any other man, naturally she would be seeking shelter against them as she was doing now…although the thought of her doing such a thing with another man caused a spasm of rage to flow through him…

Finally, after several hours of hard riding in the endless storm, they came to another village, and chose to stay the night. Bernard rode up ahead and found an inn that could house all of them. A hearty meal was served, to which Christine was extremely grateful, since the small rations of bread, apples, and cheese had barely filled her since the afternoon. Bernard and Erik's men-at-arms slept in a warm barn just around the back of the inn, while the innkeeper proudly escorted both Erik and Christine to his finest chamber. Unlike the previous inn, this one was indeed fancy, with a large four-poster bed, fine wooden cabinets and chests, and a large shimmering looking glass that adorned one of the walls.

A large blush fell across Christine's cheeks as she realized that the innkeeper only had the one room to show. Naturally…she and Erik were husband and wife…of course the innkeeper assumed they would share a bed.

She just wondered if Erik had also made the same assumption.

She glanced nervously up towards her new husband as he thanked the innkeeper, before handing him several large gold coins. The man grinned broadly, before bidding them goodnight and shutting the door.

Suddenly the world seemed to shrink as the sound of the closing door echoed throughout the chamber.

Christine was all too conscious of the fact that Erik was staring at her. She couldn't lift her eyes to meet his; she was afraid of what she would see in those intense golden orbs. She knew that as her husband, he had a right to take claim of her body if he so wished. And since he had been denied a wedding night yesterday, she could only assume he would demand one now.

The problem was Christine knew nothing about lovemaking! She was not a naïve fool, she knew what men and women did, but…she did not know how one went about the business of…starting the act. Did a woman simply fall back on the bed while her husband fell on top of her? She had always had questions, but her mother had died when she was only a child, and she never dreamt of asking Meg. Surely lovemaking was pleasant for some, after all, Meg and Robert were very much in love…but what would it be like for her? The only man who had ever shown any interest in her was Philippe…and he was the last man she ever wanted to give her body to. The very thought of the act with him made her skin crawl.

Erik watched with intense eyes as his wife fidgeted nervously by the bed. He knew what his decision was when he entered this room with her in how the evening would be handled, but he found himself questioning that decision…as well as wondering what thoughts were flying about her head in that moment.

"Get some sleep, we will ride non-stop till we reach our home, tomorrow," he finally murmured, his voice deep, but soft, surprising her with its strange gentleness.

Christine looked up at him and found her eyes locking with his, her own filled with endless questions. Could this man, this giant dark warrior, be gentle when it came to bedding women? Had he much experience with bedding women? She knew such thoughts were sinful, but she also knew that many men of nobility kept mistresses. Did Sir Erik keep mistresses? A frown suddenly creased her brow at the thought of her husband with another woman. Of course what had happened in the past was the past…and why was she even thinking of such things when she herself had yet to bed him?

Bed him. She felt so many different emotions at the simple thought. Fear…and thrill.

Erik felt the corners of his mouth lift upward, and he slowly moved towards the door, his eyes never leaving hers. Christine froze as she watched him come near, and she wondered if this was the moment she had been both hoping and dreading. Was he going to command her to remove her dress? Or was he going to rip it from her body himself? She watched with widening eyes as he grew closer and closer, until he was standing just in front of her, his body towering well over hers, his frame casting an eerie shadow across the room.

"Good night, Christine," he simply whispered, before bowing his head and turning to go.

Christine let out a shuddering gasp as she watched him walk away. It was the first time since meeting him that she heard him say her name.

It sounded so…sensuous…

Then realization dawned on her. He was leaving?

"My lord?" Erik paused at the soft way she called out to him, and he slowly turned to look at her. Christine's cheeks were blazing bright and red, and she felt most brazen for what she was about to ask, but a part of her suddenly did not wish to be left alone without him. "W-w-won't you be…staying?" She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, and carefully sat down upon the large straw bed, her eyes wide as she awaited his answer.

Erik was surprised to realize that he had been holding his breath when Christine had first called out to him. Now, as he watched her sit on the edge of the bed, her wide blue eyes gazing with an intensity all their own, her voice practically inviting him to stay and join her bed…he began to feel his iron resolve crack.

But he was not known as master of willpower for nothing. Instead, he squared his shoulders, making his imposing figure look even more daunting, and he fixed his hard gaze upon hers, the depths of his eyes like ice cold stone. "I will join my men in the barn," he simply replied. "Get some rest…we will be leaving early."

Christine felt something in her chest shatter at his words, and was surprised that relief did not flood her senses after his announcement. She knew that it was child's fantasy, but she always hoped that the man she married would be a man she loved, as well as a man who loved her. She knew that such things were rare, but she had prayed that such a miracle that had happened for Meg and Robert would also happen for her.

She watched with a heavy heart as Sir Erik opened the door to leave…and then, paused, before turning and looking at her once more, causing Christine's heart to beat erratically, before coming towards her in one short stride, his large hands cupping her face, his long fingers threading in hair. Her eyes flashed with fear for a moment as she felt his hands, strong and powerful, hold her face, realizing that if he so wished, he could crush her skull with a simple squeeze.

But what he did next filled her with more fear and fascination than anything else in her entire life…

It all happened so quickly, it truly took her by surprise. One moment he was gazing down at her, his hands holding her face, and the next…his mouth had descended and was crushing hers.

The kisses Christine had experienced in life were simple pecks, a chaste brush of the lips and nothing more. Never had she experienced anything like this! His mouth, like the rest of him, was hard and strong, boring down upon her lips and pressing his strength against her. And then…much to her shock, she felt his tongue running over her lips, licking them, coaxing them, almost pleading them to open and invite him entrance. Christine knew not what to do, his lips and tongue were so demanding, and she found that she had no choice! So she opened her mouth to him…and her gasp became a moan as she felt his tongue slide inside and run along hers.

Her eyes fluttered closed then, and Christine's hands slowly rose, and her palms flattened against the hard dark armor of his chest. His tongue and lips moved in a strange rhythm along her mouth, and Christine felt a whimper escape her lips as she slowly, and instinctively it seemed, responded to his kiss, moving her own tongue shyly over his, and boldly into his own mouth.

Erik fought the urge to withhold growling as he kissed her, but the sudden feel of her satiny sweet tongue running across his own lips and into his own mouth was too much. A deep, thunderous growl escaped his throat, and seemed to somehow lose itself in Christine's responsive kiss.

And just as suddenly as it happened…it also ended.

Erik gasped and tore his mouth away from hers, quickly backing away as he gazed at the woman who was now his wife, sitting upon the bed, her cheeks red, her lips pink, and her eyes glowing from the intimate exchange they had just shared. An exchange that Erik had never meant to allow…

"Good night," he simply said, before barging out the door, letting it slam behind him.

Christine jumped as the door's slam reverberated throughout her chamber and perhaps throughout the entire inn.

Had she done something wrong? Had she somehow displeased him? Christine couldn't believe how responsive she had been! One minute she had been trembling at the thought of sharing a bed with him…and now, she found herself trembling at the thought of having to sleep in it by herself. She knew she knew very little about this dark menacing knight who was now her husband, but in that sudden moment of when he kissed her, she felt all her doubts, all her fears, simply melt away…

She wanted him. She actually desired him! He was a frightening sight to behold, and she continued to wonder why he wore the mask, but all her misgivings had vanished when she felt his lips and tasted his mouth.

She wanted to be his wife in every sense of the word.

With a heavy sigh, she blew out the candle the innkeeper had left and fell back against the pillows of her strange and empty bed. She still wondered why exactly he chose to marry her, but for the first time since her sudden marriage, she focused on the positive aspects of her character, rather than the negative ones. Carlotta thought him ugly, but Christine did not think so. He was rugged and intimidating, but not ugly. Perhaps…perhaps he did not find her so plain? Perhaps there was truly something about her that…that he wanted.

A soft smile spread across Christine's lips as she thought of this. Tomorrow evening they would be arriving at her new home, a home she was determined to make comfortable, both for herself, as well as for her husband. There was still much she had yet to learn about her new husband, but she was determined to be a good wife, to care for him in any way she could…and perhaps…in time, they would learn to love one another.


	6. Staggering News

**Summery: **Christine begins to see her husband in a new light, however her hopes for happiness are quickly shattered when she discovers that Sir Erik is also guilty of deceit...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Staggering News**_

Christine's head was not flooded with nightmares as it had been the previous night, but with strange, warm dreams of Sir Erik's lips, and the way he held her face as he kissed her. When she awoke, she half expected to find him standing in the room, or emerging from the shadows as he had the previous day, but much to her disappointment, she was alone.

It was quite early, the sun had barely risen, but Christine was accustomed to waking before the sunrise to help Meg with preparing breakfast for the de Coleville's. She thought of her friend, wondering how Meg was handling the chores now that Christine wasn't there. She dearly missed her…

Christine went downstairs after dressing, her heart beating faster and faster the closer she approached the dining hall. What should she do when she saw him? Pretend as if nothing had happened? No, she wouldn't be able to do that; even now her cheeks were flooded with color at the memory of their kiss. Before going to bed last night, Christine was determined to make the best of her odd situation, and work hard to be a good wife to her new husband. Although the man still frightened her in many respects, including the strange feelings he had aroused in her, Christine had made her decision on how to behave when they saw one another that morning.

However, when she entered the large dining hall, her face fell as she noticed that all of Sir Erik's men were present...but Sir Erik himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah! Good morning my lady!" Bernard greeted cheerfully upon seeing her.

Christine smiled back, trying to not show her disappointment. "Good morning," she murmured, taking a seat at the table that had been reserved just for her. The innkeeper immediately brought out her breakfast, but Christine's mind wasn't focused on food.

Bernard noticed the way she was looking around the dining hall, and quickly realized who she was looking for. "He has already taken his breakfast," he quietly explained, watching her face for a response."

Christine turned her eyes to those of the steward and felt color flood her cheeks as she realized how obvious her curiosity had been. "Oh…" was all she said, and her attention was suddenly focused entirely on the food before her, however Bernard noticed how she picked at it more than anything. "Did…did you sleep well?" Christine softly asked, her eyes slowly rising to those of the steward, her face growing redder by the second.

Bernard suppressed the grin that was threatening to break forth and simply nodded his head. He knew very well that while she was being polite, her question wasn't truly about him.

A curious thing, Bernard thought. Last night, he was sure that Erik would have stayed with his new bride, after all, the man had not yet "celebrated" his wedding night, but much to Bernard's surprise, just before he and the other men had fallen asleep, Erik came bursting through the barn doors, and without so much as a word, he stalked over to one dark corner and settled down for the night, his back to all of them.

All of Erik's men knew better than to question their master's motives. While Bernard thought it strange that his master was not spending the night in a warm bed with a rather pretty girl by his side, he knew Erik had his reasons and left it at that. Perhaps Erik wished to wait until they were back at Winterbourne, the dark majestic seaside castle that Sir Erik called home. But even as he had stormed past, Bernard caught a glimpse of his master's face (the visible part) and saw the anger and frustration clearly set in his rigid features.

Had something happened between Sir Erik and his new bride? Christine definitely seemed bothered by something, the way she picked at her food and would every so often glance upward when someone entered the room. Bernard did not completely understand why Erik had married the servant girl, but had long since learned to trust the masked man's decisions.

Christine knew it was impossible to eat, her mind was reeling with too many thoughts, and her appetite was completely gone. She may regret it later, but she simply couldn't force the food down her throat. Last night she had been too surprised by the kiss to have even comprehended anything beyond it. But today, after a somewhat fitful night's sleep, she found herself worrying about what had taken place between herself and her new husband.

Had she displeased Sir Erik? Neither of them truly knew anything about the other, but that didn't mean Christine wasn't willing to learn. In fact she longed to know more about the menacing dark knight who wore a mask, and why exactly after learning the truth about her position, did he choose to marry her instead of Carlotta? Did he have feelings for her? Was there something about her that appealed to him? Christine was so used to having her looks being described as plain or undesirable, that the simple thought that something about her had attracted him was completely strange and hard to believe. And yet, she could not help but find herself hoping. She knew she would never be a great beauty…but there must have been something to make Sir Erik want her…

Want her. Did he still feel that way? Last night he chose to not share her bed, but he did kiss her without a moment's hesitation. And it was not a chaste kiss, not at all. Christine's lips still trembled, as did the rest of her, as she remembered the feel of his mouth and the taste of his tongue. Nay, his kiss was one filled with desire, passion, and…promises? Promise to what, she did not know, but those were the feelings she experienced when he kissed her. She only hoped he had felt them too…

But after their kiss, he left without so much as a glance. Had she been clumsy with her kiss? She had little experience, but she thought her response had been right. It felt right, at least.

"Does something trouble you, my lady?"

Christine's head shot up at Bernard's question. The steward looked genuinely concerned, and Christine realized then how she must have looked, moping over her porridge.

"Nay," she whispered, forcing a smile to ease him. A question suddenly came to her as a good means to distract both him and herself from her troubling thoughts. "I was thinking of my new home actually…do you think you could describe it to me?"

Bernard could tell she was trying to change the subject, it was a habit his own wife often used when she wished to avoid a particular topic or thought. However, Christine was not Ophelia, therefore he wouldn't press the matter, and she did seem genuinely interested in learning more about Winterbourne Castle.

"Well, it's still a far journey from here, although we should reach it by nightfall," Bernard began, glad to see Christine's eyes light up with happiness at the thought of finally reaching her new home.

"Is it beautiful?" Christine asked, feeling like a child on Christmas morning. "All I know is that it overlooks the sea."

"Indeed it does," Bernard grinned, although his smile faded slightly as he tried to think how best to describe the forbidding looking fortress that Sir Erik called home. Beautiful was not the word he would have chosen…

"I have never seen the sea," Christine confessed, her voice a longing sigh. "I have heard stories of it though. I have always longed to see other parts of the world though…" she found herself giggling at her words. "How silly that must sound. It is only the ocean, and yet I talk of it as if it were Rome, or Constantinople!"

Bernard smiled, his eyes filling with tenderness as he gazed at his new mistress. Perhaps she would do Erik some good after all? "Nay, I do not think that is silly," he softly replied, meaning every word.

"Please, tell me more about this place," Christine requested, leaning in as if she were in an audience before bard. "Does it have a name? What does it look like?"

Bernard found her enthusiasm catching. "Well, it is set high on a cliff that overlooks the sea. The stone is black; just like the mountain itself…in fact, it looks as if the castle were built out of the very rock!" Christine's eyes grew wide as she imagined how imposing her new home must be. However, she wasn't entirely surprised, knowing who its master was.

"Are there gardens? Forests? Fields?"

Bernard's smile was slowly fading with each question. "Nay…the ground is too rough for much vegetation, I'm afraid. There is a small meadow near by, but…nothing grows there but grass…not even wildflowers, I'm afraid."

Christine's face fell slightly at Bernard's revelation. Of all the chores she had at the de Coleville's, gardening had been her favorite…as well as the most tolerable. She was often reprimanded by Lady Maria for spending too much time tending to the flowerbeds and shrubs that grew in abundance around the castle. The roses were her absolute favorite, and the flowers she spent the most work on. Much of Carlotta's precious rose water came from those very petals that grew in that garden.

"'Tis no matter," Christine murmured, determined to not let this new piece of information dampen her spirits. "I have much experience with gardening. After I examine the land, I may be able to find a patch where some flowerbeds can begin."

Bernard smiled slightly at her optimism. It had been quite a long time since anyone had brought such hopes to Winterbourne. "There are many rooms," he continued. "And the courtyard is quite grand. The great hall is adorned with colorful banners and exquisite tapestries, some of which were gifts by the king himself!"

Christine's face fell once more at the mention of tapestries. In the back of her mind, she remembered the grand tapestry that hung over Pierre's fireplace…the tapestry that was very much a part of her life, even before she came to work at the de Coleville's.

"My lady?"

Christine shook her head, erasing the sad thought from her memory. "I'm sorry; I was simply imagining the place you had described. It sounds quite majestic! What is the castle's name?"

"Winterbourne."

Christine froze slightly as the deep, rumbling growl came from behind her. She should have known he was there, his shadow had fallen across the table and all of Sir Erik's men were gazing up at him, awaiting his order.

Slowly, Christine turned to face him, her body trembling slightly out of fear of how he would be looking. She knew that with one look into his penetrating eyes, her answer as to whether she had upset him the previous night would be there.

She was wrong…

His expression was entirely unreadable.

"Winterbourne," he repeated, his eyes locked intensely with hers. "That is the name of my home."

His home. Yesterday he had gone out of his way to correct himself and call it theirs. But that mutual feeling seemed to have slipped away along with the last stars of eveningtide.

"Winterbourne," Christine murmured, the very name causing a chill to run through her body. Her sudden hopes of making the castle a comfortable home also seemed to vanish…

Erik lifted his eyes from Christine's and looked directly at his men. "It's time we return home," he barked, before turning on his heel and leaving the room, his black cloak billowing in his wake.

Christine quickly rose from her chair, her heart beating rapidly as she watched him go. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her bones. His face and eyes may have been unreadable, but she could hear the displeasure in his voice. And she knew that it was her fault…

Before any of the men had risen from their chairs, Christine was already flying out the door after her husband, determined to make peace before they began their long journey back. "My lord!" she called, noticing he was marching towards the barn. She picked up her skirts and hurried after him. "My lord! My lord, please!" He still did not turn to face her. Christine stopped her running and took a deep breath, hoping this would catch his attention. "Husband!"

Erik froze as the words echoed in the early morning air.

He was just standing in the barn entrance, but he slowly turned to face the woman who had addressed him by his newest title. His eyes caught hold of hers, and Christine felt her breath leave her body at the powerful way he gazed at her. "Yes, madam wife?" he answered, his visible brow lifted in question.

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly took several large paces until she was standing just a few feet away from him. "I…that is…I wish…" she cursed her nerves that were not only causing her voice to trip over her words, but also her mind. "Did…did you sleep well?" she finally asked, feeling like a fool and a coward for her lack of courage.

Erik studied her for a moment, before simply nodding his head to her question. "And you?" he inquired, his eyes slipping just momentarily from hers to her lips.

"I did…" she murmured, although she yearned to cry out, 'I would have slept better had you stayed!' but even the mere thought of such an answer caused her face to grow hot with embarrassment.

"I am glad," Erik whispered, his fingers flexing as a wisp of brown hair fell across her cheek. Every instinct in his body told him to brush the soft threads back, but he restrained himself, just as he was restraining himself now from grasping her shoulders and tasting her sweet lips once again. "Was there something else?" he asked, his impatience growing suddenly, the question sounding much harsher than he meant.

"I…" Christine bit her lip, wishing she could respond the way she wanted to, to simply ask him if she had done something wrong, if she had displeased him, if he would kiss her again, just once more before they set off on their long journey to her new home…

But her cowardice won over in the end. "Nay, my lord," her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Erik chose not to ponder what she had truly meant to ask, for he had a fairly good idea what was troubling her. In truth, it was what had been haunting him ever since he barged in the barn the night before.

He turned and left her standing there while he went to fetch his horse, his men-at-arms arriving then to fetch their own steeds, each of them moving around the frozen figure of their master's new wife.

As soon as Erik's stallion was saddled, he mounted the mighty black steed, his eyes not even going to Christine's face. "Bernard!" he barked to his steward, who was staring up at him with surprise.

"Aye, my lord?"

"Take my wife."

Both Christine and Bernard paled slightly at Erik's words. "I…I beg your pardon?"

"She will ride with you," Erik growled, before digging his heels into his horse, the creature rising up to stand on its hind legs, before letting out it's own mighty battle cry, and taking off down the road that would lead them to Winterbourne.

Christine stared in shock and horror as she watched her husband gallop away.

"My lady?" Bernard was also troubled, but knew he had orders to follow. He offered his hand out to Christine, and found that he had to nudge her shoulder ever so slightly to get her attention. Christine numbly allowed Bernard to lift her up on his horse, before mounting his own stallion behind her.

But her attention was focused entirely on the black figure that rode ahead of everyone else, the road's dust enveloping him in an ominous cloud.

For the first time since she had come to know Sir Erik, Christine felt the hot moisture of tears touch her cheek.

She realized then, that her heart was truly breaking…

* * *

Erik had kept his promise; they did not stop as they rode their horses northward until it became absolutely necessary to give the animals a drink. But even then the rest was brief, and Christine never had the opportunity to approach him. What would she say? Her courage had failed her earlier, and she doubted it would help her now.

The storm that had found them yesterday seemed to have returned once more, and again it crashed and poured upon them, making the journey all the more miserable. Christine's joy at coming to a new place, at seeing the ocean for the first time in her life, at trying to be a good and proper wife to her husband, had completely vanished. She now dreaded this place called Winterbourne, this black castle where nothing grew. She now began to wish that she had stayed behind at the de Coleville's. She did not miss the family, and knew they would punish her severely, but at least she would have Robert and Meg. More than anything, she longed for her friends, and found herself thinking of Antoinette, Meg's mother. She could use the woman's advice so badly…

Night fell sooner than she had expected; or was it the storm clouds that still rumbled overhead that had turned the sky black? It mattered not; she was inconsolable.

"My lady?" She was awakened from her thoughts by Bernard's gentle voice. "My lady, look ahead!" She did as he commanded, and gasped as a streak of lightning illuminated the sky, revealing an ominous mountain fortress in the distance. "That is Winterbourne."

"Winterbourne…" Christine whispered. The place did indeed look like something out of one's nightmares.

Suddenly, Erik's horse came to a stop, and everyone else slowed as well, wondering what their master's reasons were, when they were so close to home. Erik turned his horse then and trotted towards Bernard's steed until he was standing right next to him.

He said nothing; simply held his hand out to Christine.

Christine stared at the offered arm blankly, unsure exactly what he wanted. She tried to see his eyes, but the hood he wore hid them from her view. All she could make out was the white of his mask, and even then she had to squint through the pouring rain.

Erik groaned with irritation and without saying anything, grasped Christine's arm and pulled her off Bernard's horse and onto his own in a single, effortless, movement.

Christine didn't even have time to gasp her surprise. She felt Erik's armored chest against her cheek and his strong arm around her body as he turned his horse back towards the castle, and broke out at top speed. She realized then that no matter how long she lived, she would never truly understand this man or his actions.

Within a few short minutes, they were at the castle, the gates opened wide and a small gathering of people standing in the courtyard, paying no heed to the pounding rain that fell about them.

A woman in a bright red tunic and green gown gave out a joyful cry and flew to Bernard's horse, the steward quickly dismounting to embrace the woman. Christine smiled softly as she set eyes on the dear woman that Bernard had been filling her ears about. At least someone would be having a happy homecoming at this daunting place.

"So glad to have you home, my lord!" an old man hailed, coming forward to take the reins from Erik's stallion.

"Already have a fire blazing!" announced an elderly woman from the entrance that led into what Christine assumed was the great hall. "And should ye wish, we can have a bath brought up to ye."

Christine bit her lip as she looked around at all the faces that crowded the courtyard. They were busy taking the horses from the men-at-arms, but they were also staring right back at her, some looking at her with ample curiosity, while others were frowning with confusion. No doubt these faces belonged to those who had heard about Carlotta's stifling beauty.

However, out of all the faces that filled the courtyard, none caught Christine's attention as much as five young ones, each standing straight and tall, and each looking grimly up at her.

Two of the children, a pair of girls that were exactly identical, save for the small dresses they wore, didn't look to be much older than three or four, while a boy with dark hair stood behind them, looking a few years older, although the grim way he gazed at her aged him considerably. A thin girl with short curly red hair stood in front of the twin girls, her expression extremely sour, her arms folded across her chest in a most indignant fashion, while standing to her left, was another boy, who looked to be the oldest of them all. Christine's breath caught in her throat as the boy glared at her, his eyes an exact replica of Sir Erik's…in fact, everything about him, save for his smaller height, seemed to be an exact replica of Sir Erik! His hair was black and shaggy, his shoulders were rather broad, and while he couldn't have been more than ten or eleven, he definitely seemed to tower above the other children the way Erik towered above everyone else. Who were these children? And why…did they look at her with such resentment?

Erik himself was frowning with great disdain at the sight of the five children. "You should be in bed," he growled, while sliding off his horse with ease.

The oldest boy only glared back, his eyes moving with contempt from the Black Knight to the lady that still sat upon his horse. "Who's she?" he charged, his voice attempting to growl just like Erik's.

Erik's hands wrapped around Christine's waist as he slowly pulled her off the horse and lowered her to the ground. It was a good thing he was holding her at that exact second, for her knees buckled from the shock of what he said next.

"She, is your new mother."


	7. Sorrowful Reality

**Summery: **Christine's arrival to her new home isn't the most pleasant welcoming, and Sir Erik is taken by surprise when he catches his first glimpse of his bride's passionate spirit...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Sorrowful Reality**_

Erik was pacing like a wild animal, his mind reeling from everything that had taken place since returning to Winterbourne. It was not supposed to be like this! He had everything planned perfectly!

And then she had to ruin it all!

Erik groaned and collapsed in a giant decorated arm chair that faced the blazing fireplace of his bedchamber. He buried his throbbing head in his hands, trying to understand exactly where everything had gone wrong.

A week ago he had received the summons; Baron Pierre de Coleville had a beautiful daughter who was the perfect marrying age, a stunning beauty whose dazzling smile promised many pleasures to the lucky man who wedded her. Erik did not care about the details of Carlotta de Coleville's looks; he simply viewed the summons as an answer to his prayers! Without a moment's hesitation, he replied to the king's letter, sent word on to Pierre himself, and assembled his men to travel south to meet his future bride.

However, the woman he found was nothing like the lady that both de Coleville and the king's summons had described. Erik knew the second he laid eyes on her that she wasn't the daughter of a nobleman. It was more than her somewhat homely looks, it was the manner at which she carried herself, the way she shyly obeyed his commands, and especially the mere fact that her hands were dirty. He did not know the reasons as to why the servant girl named Christine was dressed like Carlotta, but he knew the second he clapped eyes on her that she was the perfect woman to marry. A woman used to hard work would not be afraid to tend five unruly children, and she was far too plain to tempt him as anything further…or so he thought.

Erik groaned and rubbed his temples, the headache growing steadily worse. His children needed a mother, nothing more. That was why he sought a wife, purely for the sake of his children, not for himself! It was a cruel trick to play, but Erik knew that it was the only way to have a woman wed him in the first place! He had been called a monster by both men and women, and they were right to do so. No father, outside of a desperate man like de Coleville, would willingly give his daughter to the Black Knight in marriage. Nay, this was the only way to get what he needed, and fate had stepped in to give him the proper sort of lady for what he sought.

Everything had been going so well…

And then he kissed her.

Erik cursed himself and his weaknesses for the millionth time since the other night when some spirit had overtaken his body and drawn him to Christine's lips. In that brief tasting, Erik felt a surge of desire overtake him, unlike anything he had ever felt before. And now, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, to suppress it, he couldn't stop thinking her or her damn lips!

The sound of the chamber door banging against its hinges startled Erik, and he whipped his head up to see who it was that would dare disturb him at this late hour. A frustrated groan escaped his lips at the sight the scowling silver-haired woman. There was no hope for his headache now…

"So…ye just forgot to mention the fact that ye had five children?"

Erik rose from his chair, turning his back on the old woman who had served in his household since he was a boy. The unfortunate thing about such people was that no matter how cold and menacing one tried to look or behave, it never had an affect on them. Erik knew that his best defense against the agitated woman was simply to ignore her.

However, this time it had the opposite affect.

"Oh that's right, ignore me," the woman muttered, going about the room as if she were tidying it, when there was nothing really to tidy. "Ye call yourself the Black Knight, the terror of war…but all I see is a coward behind that mask ye wear," she spat in a venomous voice. "Poor girl, never saw it coming…"

"Not now, Anne," Erik growled, his large hands clasping the fireplace mantle, his eyes mirroring the raging flames that danced within its stone hearth.

"Oh you're going to hear it now! I don't care how tired ye are from your journey! Ye should be ashamed of yourself!" the woman accused, her hands tightening into fists and going against her wide hips. "That poor girl is beside herself! She's still a child in many ways, and now you've brought her to this place and forced her into motherhood! And not just any motherhood…motherhood to the most hellish children in the country!"

Erik's hands tightened even more on the mantle, his muscles taut, and his jaw rigid.

"And what did ye do? Nothing. Ye simply stood there while those vicious little savages ripped her apart!"

"ENOUGH!" Erik roared, turning on the old woman, his eyes blazing with fury. "I KNOW VERY WELL WHAT I DID AND WHAT HAPPENED! I WAS THERE!"

Indeed…he remembered everything perfectly. The way his children behaved, the way Christine looked at him with shock…and then the way she looked at him after the shock had disappeared.

It was as if she were looking at him without his mask…

"She, is your new mother." Christine had gone completely rigid when the words escaped his lips. He didn't know who looked more shocked…his wife, or his children.

The children, especially the three older ones, stared blankly at him for a long moment, as if assessing everything that they had just learned, several times over. And then, they turned and glared at her with looks of such spiteful hatred.

"She's no mother of mine!" shouted the girl, before making a disgusting sound that no doubt one of her brothers had taught her, and spitting on the ground.

"HELENA!" Erik roared at his daughter's rude and disgusting behavior. The girl however didn't look the least bit frightened from his tone.

"She's ugly," whined the younger dark haired boy, his little face contorting with disgust. "Mama was prettier."

"CHARLES!" Erik shouted, his eyes blazing with rage at their horrid behavior.

"Your mother was a whore," the girl with the red ringlets teased, which caused little Charles' face to turn bright red.

"So was your mother!" he shouted, stomping his feet and trying to look fierce, despite the way his lip wobbled.

Helena shook her head, her red ringlets flying about like a crimson wave. "My mother was a mistress, there's a distinct difference!"

"SILENCE!" Erik roared, his mind reeling with all the things his children were saying. He could only imagine how Christine looked, and he actually dreaded seeing her face. "YOU WILL TREAT YOUR NEW MOTHER WITH RESPECT OR SO HELP ME…!"

Unfortunately, Erik's threat seemed to have little effect on the children. Helena and Charles rolled their eyes, while the two twin girls pouted. Erik felt his fists clench with rage at their disrespect, but his eyes were entirely focused on the oldest boy who had yet to say anything since Erik's announcement that Christine was their new mother.

The boy simply matched his father's golden glare with one of his own. Save for the mask, the child was a mini replica of the Black Knight, and it still startled Erik every time he looked at the boy to see how much of himself he saw in the lad's eyes.

"I will never call her 'mother'," the boy growled, his eyes narrowing icily at Christine. "And I will never respect her…" he turned his gaze then to his father, who looked ready to grab the child about the neck and snap him in two. "Just as I will never respect you!" he shouted, before turning on his heel and running up the steps that led into the castle's great hall, his siblings following closely behind.

Anne, who had been standing by and witnessing the whole thing, could not believe how Erik had allowed the little imps to speak so horribly to his bride. Had he no shame? An insult to her was an insult to him! Why hadn't he grabbed the child by the scruff of his shirt and given him a good slap? In her opinion, all of them needed a good beating.

Erik watched as his eldest son led the small army away, his eyes blazing with rage for how the boy had spoken to him. Insolent youth! However, his rage was temporarily sidetracked as he felt something wriggle violently against him, and it was then that he realized he had not let go of his hold on Christine since helping her down off his horse.

Her small hands flattened against his chest and she pushed herself away with all her might, her blue eyes on fire with pain and anguish as she gazed at him with horrible disbelief. "YOU'RE A FATHER?"

Erik, along with everyone else who had been standing and watching the scene unfold, gasped at the woman's sudden scream, not expecting such a mighty voice to exist in her small frame. All of the servants stood frozen with shock with the way the woman addressed their master, the vicious Black Knight. Had she lost her mind? She should be cowering with fear! But fear was the last thing reflected in the woman's eyes…

She was furious.

"How…how…why couldn't you…" Erik felt something snap inside his chest as he watched the way her lips trembled and he heard the betrayal in her voice. And then…realization dawned on her. "Of course," she murmured, only loud enough for Erik to hear. "Now I understand why you married me…"

Erik winced; never in all his life had he heard anything more pained.

Anne could not stand by another second; she flew down the steps and embraced the trembling girl, her old eyes narrowing with disapproval at her master. "Come dear, you've had a long journey, let's get ye to your room so ye can rest."

Erik watched as the old woman led Christine away, and suddenly, he felt the weight of everyone's disapproving gaze, even Bernard's, who was hanging his head in shame at the whole sight. Now everyone knew the truth as to why the Black Knight had married the servant girl.

A cloud of rage fell over Erik's darkened face. Without another look back at the people who stood in the courtyard, he took the steps, two at a time, and burst into the great hall, the rainwater flowing off his armor and cloak like a waterfall.

He knew of the room that Anne had prepared for his wife; it was in the northwest tower that overlooked the sea. He was fully prepared to stalk up the tower's winding steps and burst into the room, demanding that Christine apologize to him for embarrassing him just then in front of his household!

But instead, he retreated to his own chamber, his heart aching…just as it was aching now as Anne fired her icy words at his back. Was he possibly feeling guilt for what had happened? Guilt for allowing his children to embarrass her as they had done? Guilt for not telling her his true intentions with taking her for his wife? Guilt for deceiving her, himself?

No! He did nothing wrong! He had to do what he had to do! His children needed a mother, and it was now her job to keep the little demons in line! Besides, she got what she deserved after the deception she played on him back at Pierre de Coleville's castle!

He sighed and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping with defeat. No matter how hard he tried to justify his actions, he remained haunted by Christine's pained look.

He did not want wife, this marriage was never about him! He did what he did for the sake of his children…and at the time, he even thought he was helping Christine by getting her out of that hellish place.

But the memory of Christine's kiss continued to plague him, and even now, he felt an old stirring in his loins at the simple thought of her.

Sir Erik von Desslar, the Black Knight, was one of king's most reliable and cunning soldiers. He had won many battles, slain many enemies, and was renowned for the shrewd way he led his men to victory. And yet now, Sir Erik had done the very thing he had never expected to do to himself: he had become a prisoner in his own trap.

* * *

Christine had waited until she was alone in her new chamber before allowing the tears to fall. The second she had heard the kind old woman named Anne leave, she collapsed on the new bed, her face buried in her hands, and sobbed for all the foolish dreams she had led herself to believe.

She was an idiot! How could she have thought, even for a moment, that Sir Erik had chosen to marry her for her? Indeed, he had seen something in her…a woman to slave after his children.

His children. She was still in shock from the news! Five children, all of who had made it quite apparent how greatly they disliked her. She shivered as she remembered the younger boy…Charles was it? How he had called her ugly and agreed whole heartily with the others that he would never respect her.

Christine was not so vain as to expect the children to like her, and of course they would think their own mother more beautiful than she. What Charles had said, while hurtful, was nothing Christine had never heard before. But it was the words that followed this exchange, between him and the girl with the red curls, that had truly shaken Christine.

"Your mother was a whore," the girl Erik called Helena, spat at the boy. The two then started to argue, and Christine realized, much to her own shock, that the children did not all share the same mother, and that their mothers were not former wives of Sir Erik!

No wonder they resented her; he had married her, a plain little nobody, while merely sleeping and impregnating these beautiful women. How could he? How could he do this to her? To all of them?

She was so furious! Sir Erik had made her look like a fool in front of this new household that…that now, she was mistress of! Christine had lived all her life as a servant; she knew nothing about being a noblewoman! Like his children, everyone in the entire castle would resent her, wondering why she was so "special", when in truth, she wasn't. She was still a servant in many ways…she just wore the master's wedding ring.

Christine rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling of her new room. It was truly beautiful, a room fit for a princess. Too bad the woman who occupied it was not fit to live in such a place. The bed was large, much larger than any bed Christine had ever slept in before. The mattress was incredibly soft, filled with goose feathers instead of straw. Carlotta slept on a goose-feathered bed, and Christine had often wondered what it felt like. The bed was adorned with lace curtains that could be drawn to hide its occupant, and the sheets were crisp and clean and smelled like lavender.

The room was large, with exquisite wood cabinets and trunks, each beautifully carved by a skilled craftsman. A large looking glass leaned against one of the tower's walls, and from the tower's wooden rafters hung sprigs of jasmine, lilac, and rosemary. Yet the grandest feature of the room was the large window that faced the rumbling ocean.

Christine slowly slipped off the bed and moved towards the window, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed at the sea for the first time in her life. Never had she seen anything so…breathtaking. Despite the darkness and the rain that poured from the heavens, Christine could tell how gloriously vast the sea was, and how rough and powerful its waves were. She inhaled the air and was struck by how fresh and clean it smelt. The wind was cold and it blew the rain in just slightly, but Christine did not care. It was cleansing, in a way, as if washing her free of her frivolous dreams.

She sighed and sat down on the bench that had been carved out of the tower's wall, and gazed out at the roaring ocean. Had it only been that morning that she had awoken, determined to be a good wife for her husband, to make their new home as comfortable as possible? Had it only been that morning that she had awoken, anxious to feel her husband's lips touch hers once more? Had it only been just a few hours ago, that she had wanted to give her body to her husband and become his wife in every sense of the word?

Damn fool! That was what she was! If he had wanted a wife in that sense, he would have married Carlotta! Beautiful Carlotta, with her soft ivory skin, her long silvery blonde hair, and her large ample breasts, ready to bestow such gifts on any man who was willing to pay the bride price.

No, she was not that sort of wife, and that was why he picked her. Why should he be any different than Philippe?

"Oh! My dear! Come away from that window or you'll freeze!" Anne gasped after softly knocking on the tower's door and entering.

Christine looked up at the kindly old woman who had led her to the chamber earlier. She quickly wiped her eyes and forced a smile, although the woman could see right past it.

"There, there, my dear," Anne cooed, taking Christine's hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "'Twill be alright. I know; any new place is daunting at first, but soon you'll be moving about Winterbourne as if it's always been your home."

Christine highly doubted that, but softly nodded her head. This place did not strike her as one she could ever call "home".

Anne seemed slightly satisfied by Christine's nod, although she could not blame the girl for feeling dispassionate about the castle, or the man it belonged to. "Come," Anne murmured, helping Christine rise from the window bench. The old woman then clapped her hands, and three strong looking boys entered the chamber, two carrying a large bathing tub and another carrying two steaming buckets of hot water. "I know you're tired my dear, but a bath will surely make you feel better after your long journey. And I'll have one of the kitchen girls bring up some food to ye."

"Oh…thank you very much, but…I do not think I could eat anything." She didn't want them to think she was ungrateful, but the truth was Christine had no appetite after everything she had learned.

"Nonsense," Anne chirped, shushing the boys out after they had filled the tub with hot steaming water. "Ye need to get some warmth in ye, and I know that some hot chicken broth will do ye good. Now," she marched over to Christine, and much to the young woman's surprise, turned her until her back was facing the old woman, and began unlacing the dress she wore. Christine was not used to having anyone help her out of her clothes, but she had to remind herself that now…she was considered a Lady.

"I know what you're thinking," Anne sighed as she undid Christine's laces. "I myself can't believe that the Master never mentioned those imps, but then I guess with their reputation he feared you'd run to the hills!"

This wasn't helping to ease Christine's worries.

"That Jacob, he's the oldest boy…oh, he's the worst of the lot. Too much like his father," the woman muttered with a cluck of her tongue. "The others are quite a handful on their own, especially Helena, but Jacob…he's their little leader. They'll do whatever he says."

Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as Anne continued talking. "Helena's name fits her…has the word 'hell' which is exactly how she can be. Fitting, since her hair is demon red. And Charles, that boy needs his mouth washed out with soap! He's only six, and yet he has a mouth fowler than most sailors…and I should know! My husband was one!" Christine bit her lip as she imagined those children, and how they were now being thrusted upon her to look after.

"And don't be fooled by little Sarah and Sabrina!"

Christine looked over her shoulder at Anne, her brow furrowed just slightly. "Are Sarah and Sabrina those twin girls?"

"Aye," Anne grumbled. "And trust me, they'll use their darling faces to get whatever they want…and if that don't work, they'll use their banshee lungs."

Christine shivered at the thought of those two little girls who couldn't have been more than three or four, being demonic in their trickery.

"Now," Anne murmured, finally ridding the dress from her new mistress. "In we go," she smiled, helping Christine into the tub. Christine gasped as she felt the hot water slide over her skin. It had been a month since her last bath, and those were always cold. She leaned back in the tub and let a sigh escape her lips as she sunk even deeper into the warm waters around her. This was definitely one luxury she could get used to…

Anne smiled with satisfaction and moved towels near the tub. "I'll just go and get ye that broth, as well as nice piping hot cup of tea," she murmured, before leaving Christine to bathe in peace.

Christine let out another sigh and gazed up at the ceiling as she enjoyed the water's warmth, cleansing her of the dirt and mud from her long journey to Winterbourne Castle. She reflected on all that Anne had revealed to her about Sir Erik's children, as well as everything she had learned at her first encounter with them. They all had bad manners and rude behavior, but Christine had to confess, it was not something unheard of amongst children of nobility. Carlotta was only four years younger than Christine, and yet she remembered all the ways that Lady Maria spoiled and babied the flaxen-haired girl, never once reprimanding her for bad behavior. Perhaps that was the same problem with Sir Erik's children? Perhaps they simply needed to learn the manners they had never been taught? And perhaps…perhaps their bad behavior was simply a way to get their father's attention? Christine would never expect them to look upon her as their mother…but she did hope that perhaps, somehow, they could be become friends?

Perhaps she could succeed with them where she had failed with her husband?

Christine reached for one of the towels that Anne had left her, picking it up without so much as a glance, before dropping it and letting out a startled scream.

Anne had only just been outside when she heard her new mistress screaming, and came bursting into the room, her eyes blazing with worry. "What is it, child? Good lord, ye frightened me out of me wits! What's wrong? What startled ye?"

Christine was trembling and sat huddled in the tub, one shaking finger pointing at the towel she had flung across the room. Anne squinted her old eyes to see what it was that had caused Christine to scream, and groaned as a tiny gray snake slithered out of from under the towel and into one of cracks in the tower's wall.

Both Christine and Anne jumped as they heard a burst of giggles erupt just outside the tower door, followed by the sound of little feet, running along the castle stones. Anne grumbled several curses as she marched over to Christine's side, inspecting the other towels that she had left, before helping Christine out of the tub. "And so it begins," she muttered.


	8. Hellish Beginning

**Summery: **Christine begins to wonder which life was worse: being Carlotta's slave or being mistress of Winterbourne Castle. To make matters more complicated, she and Sir Erik unleash their fury at one another...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Hellish Beginning_**

Christine's first day at Winterbourne Castle was hell. The very moment she woke up, it was hell. While sleeping in her new feather bed, she felt something soft tickle her nose. Not thinking to open her eyes, she moved her hand to brush whatever it was away…

And then sat up gasping as something cold, slimy, and extremely smelly, was smeared across her face. She looked down at her hand and her eyes widened with horror as she saw that her hand had been smeared with cow manure, and she flew out of the bed to look in the looking glass and let out a shriek as she realized her face was now smeared with the stuff when she had gone to scratch her nose!

And like the night before, after both she and Anne discovered the snake hidden in the towels, she could hear the sound of little feet running, followed by the horrid sound of children cackling.

After scrubbing her face and hands in the basin that Anne had kindly left (she scrubbed at least four times to make extra sure that all the manure was gone), Christine squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

Last night she had hoped that perhaps she and the children could become friends, but after the incident with the snake…and now the incident with the manure, Christine realized that friendship was the last thing that any of them wanted. And that was fine with her, they didn't have to like her–but as Sir Erik had bellowed at them the other night, they WOULD respect her! Carlotta and Philippe had bullied her about; she was not going to allow five children to bully her.

Feeling most determined to face her enemies in battle, Christine went to the cabinet where Anne had told her she would find some new gowns, and gasped as she looked at the beautiful layers of fabric that elegantly hung before her. She selected a deep forest green gown, with silver trim and a white sash, and quickly dressed herself, before leaving the comforts of her tower to face the enemy.

Last night, while Anne led Christine to her chamber, they passed the dining hall, which was adjacent to Sir Erik's great hall. While Christine knew very little about getting around this massive seaside fortress, she believed she remembered the way back to the dining hall. Christine remembered all the exquisite banners and tapestries that she had passed, the very ones that Bernard had boasted about. Even now, as she walked through some of the twisting hallways of the castle, she saw several small, beautiful tapestries, each telling its own story, and each reminding her more and more of what had been left behind at the de Coleville's.

There was lively chatter coming from the dining hall; the chatter of children. Christine took a deep breath and squared her shoulders once more, before stepping into the large room, her head held high as she marched towards the table.

All the chatter had stopped, and all five children looked up at her, their expressions completely unreadable. Christine attempted to make her expression just as unreadable, as she slowly sat down, joining her new family for breakfast. She tried to hide her emotions when she noticed that Sir Erik was nowhere in sight…

"Good morning my dear!" Anne chirped, grinning as she brought Christine a hot bowl of porridge. "I hope ye slept well?"

Helena began to giggle, but quickly turned it into a cough after Anne shot her a suspicious look.

Christine smiled sweetly up at the old woman. "Yes, thank you." She turned her attention then to the children, all of whom were watching her closely. "And I must say…" Christine added, "I don't think I have ever awoken from a peaceful slumber in…such a way, before."

Now both Helena and Charles were giggling, trying desperately to conceal their laughter, but struggling with doing so. It wasn't until the oldest boy, Jacob, shot them a fierce look, that they finally stopped.

Christine eyed Jacob for a moment, amazed at how closely the boy resembled his father. If he wore a mask, the transformation would be complete! Jacob felt her gaze and glared right back at her, challenging her with his own golden eyes. Christine was startled by the sudden glare, but calmly lowered her eyes to her porridge, eating a spoonful, before lifting her eyes once more to the children.

"Well," she sighed, looking at the young faces before her, "I think I now know all of your names, but I don't know if you know mine."

Not one of them blinked, nor did one of them smile, not even the two younger ones.

Christine lifted her chin with determination. "My name is Christine, and that is what you may call me," she smiled, hoping to at least show them that she was not trying to take the place of their mother.

Anne gasped at Christine's words. "My lady! Forgive me, but that is not right!" she turned to the children and gave them a stern look. "Lady Christine is now your mother! And that is exactly how ye shall address–"

"No, Anne, please…" Christine interrupted, reaching out and patting the old woman's hand. "It's alright, truly. I would be honored if they called me by my name." She smiled once again at the children, but all of them continued to stare back at her, most sourly.

"Criswteen?" murmured one of the little twin girls from the far end of the table. Jacob's eyes went wide and shot the child a venomous look.

Christine however saw this as a wonderful opportunity to start winning some of the children over onto her side. The younger ones would be the easiest. "Yes!" she smiled, ignoring Jacob's sour look. "Exactly, Christine. And you must be…Sarah?"

"Sobreena!" the little girl gurgled through her porridge, looking most indignant that she had been confused for her twin sister.

"I apologize," Christine lifted her hands up in peace. "Sabrina; that is indeed a beautiful name."

"What about me?" wailed her twin sister, pounding her small wooden spoon down on the table. Now Helena was joining her older brother with glaring at the twins.

Christine ignored the two older children and smiled back at little Sarah. "Sarah is very beautiful too," Christine grinned, before turning her gaze to the girl with the red ringlets. "And so is Helena."

Helena folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes at Christine's face. "Well I think your name is stupid!" she spat, before moving her accusing eyes all over the young woman. "And your hair is stupid too!"

Christine knew that the three older ones would be the hardest to win over, therefore she wasn't too surprised when the child started throwing insults at her. "My hair is stupid?" Christine repeated, trying to comprehend how hair could be stupid. "Perhaps you mean that you think it's unflattering?" her fingers wrapped around a brown strand and studied it closely. "Hmmm, well, you could be right," she sighed. "After all, it's not as eye catching as yours."

Helena seemed to smile at this and bobbed her head just slightly so that her fiery curls bounced in the air. "My mother had red hair," she grinned proudly. "Papa always says it reminds him of the sunset."

Christine's defenses were lowered just slightly at the mention of Sir Erik. "Did he?" she murmured, thinking of Sir Erik running his large fingers through the fiery tresses of Helena's mother. What would he compare her hair too? The bark of a tree? The dirt of the earth? She caught Jacob's gaze and saw a smirk spread across his young face, and quickly shook her head, determined not to give the boy the upper hand. "Well, I think your hair is beautiful," Christine replied, smiling at the girl. "In fact, it reminds me of a song my mother used to sing to me before I went to bed at night."

Helena actually looked genuinely interested in what Christine had to say, as did the two twin girls, but neither of the boys were fooled. "Flattery will get you nowhere," Jacob growled, before stuffing his spoon into his porridge.

Christine looked at the boy for a long moment, her eyes studying him carefully. "I meant every word, I do think Helena's hair is beautiful, and it does remind me of a song my mother used to sing to me."

"Well I don't want to hear it!" Charles piped up, trying to sound as gruff as his brother. "Sounds stupid!"

Christine's lips curved ever so slightly into a knowing grin. "Now that is a shame that you would think such things, especially since you know nothing about it."

"I don't care!" Charles spat, folding his arms across his chest and trying to puff himself up to look larger than he was.

Christine sighed sadly. "'Tis a shame indeed. But perhaps you are right; perhaps a song about knights, talking beasts, a fairy princess, and fierce dragons is stupid…"

Charles' eyes went wide at Christine's words. "Dragons? There are dragons?"

"A fairy princess?" Helena gasped. "Does the princess fall in love with the knight?"

"Who cares," Charles grumbled. "Tell me about the dragons!"

"SHUT UP!" Jacob roared down the table at his siblings. All of them went quiet and looked down at their laps, a look of shame washing over their faces. Christine's eyes narrowed as she met Jacob's intense golden gaze. The other children were rude, but she could clearly see that the one who controlled them and encouraged their bad behavior was their older brother. Yes, he was very much like his father in many ways…

"I see what you're trying to do," Jacob growled. "And it won't work!"

Christine studied the boy for a moment before speaking. "I only want to be your friend, Jacob."

"WELL I DON'T WANT YOU!" Jacob shouted, taking the spoon he had stuck in his porridge and flinging it across the table at Christine, a giant glob landing right in her hair.

The other children burst into giggles and rallied around their brother, as if nothing Christine had said earlier had made any difference. "None of us want you!" Jacob snarled, before driving the knife in further. "Not even our father wants you," he hissed, his eyes twinkling as he saw Christine flinch at his words. "So why don't you just leave?" he shouted, before rising from the table and leading his siblings out the door, each of them laughing and cheering their brother.

"What the devil? Good gracious!" Anne had just entered the dining hall after going to the kitchens to retrieve some hot bread, when she saw Christine sitting alone, blobs of porridge dripping down her hair. "Oh ye poor thing!" Anne rushed over to the young woman and immediately began dabbing at Christine's hair with her apron. "I'm so sorry, I should never have left ye alone with them, those horrid monsters–"

"I'm alright," Christine whispered, her fingers reaching up to help wipe away the porridge. "Rome was not built in a day, so I've heard."

"Nay," Anne agreed. "But a day was all it took to sack Jerusalem."

Christine liked the old woman very much, but she had the unfortunate talent of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"Horrid creatures. I should go and inform the Master exactly what they–"

"No!" Christine interrupted, before quickly softening her tone. "No…Sir Erik hired me to take care of his children, and that is exactly what I'm going to do. I don't need his help," she muttered coldly. "Wouldn't do any good anyway, he's already proven to me he lacks the proper control."

She rose from the table and straightened her shoulders before marching out the door the children had disappeared through.

"My lady!"

Christine didn't think she would ever get used to being addressed in such a formal way. She turned to gaze back at Anne, whose face had gone as pale as a sheet. "Yes?"

"Just…what ye said," she murmured, biting her lip. "Ye said, Sir Erik had hired ye…but that's not true, he married ye. You're his wife, not his servant."

Christine's blue eyes filled with a haunting sadness before she turned to leave. "I'm afraid that Sir Erik sees no difference."

* * *

"My lord?"

Erik was staring out the window of his chamber, his eyes intensely focused on the courtyard below.

"My lord?" Bernard asked again, before finally rising from the chair he was sitting in to gaze out the window and see what had caught his master's attention.

Down below, Christine was walking through the courtyard, smiling and curtseying to the few servants who were there, before wandering in a different direction and disappearing around a corner…when only moments later, all five of Sir Erik's children came bursting out from their hiding place and running to find another, each giggling as they went. Christine would then emerge from the place she had gone, looking around desperately to try and see where the giggling had come from.

Bernard sighed and went back to his chair. "They'll eat her alive," he grumbled, eyeing his master for a response. Erik said nothing; he continued to gaze out the window. "My lord, perhaps we should do this another time–"

"Nay," Erik muttered, before turning his back on the window and marching back to the table that his steward sat at. "My work for king and country can never wait."

Bernard rolled his eyes but said nothing, as he reopened the map they had been examining earlier. "There is a collection of caves just south of us…here," he pointed to a spot on the map, just off the coastline, "that several farmers have mentioned seeing dark, suspicious looking ships, docking nearby, and men carrying large items into the caves."

"Pirates," Erik growled under his breath.

"We can't be sure," Bernard sighed. "I've sent word to his majesty, just to make sure that those aren't the king's own ships, but I highly doubt it."

"It's pirates," Erik growled, turning away from the map. "I'm sure of it. Only pirates would care about hiding mysterious trunks in secret caves," he walked once more back to the window. "Have there been any complaints amongst the farmers?"

"Nay," Bernard sighed. "Only that they have seen them moving the items towards the caves, which does leave the suspicion that they may not be pirates, but…" he ran his hand through his dark beard, before glancing warily up at his master. "There have been those rumors…"

"He's dead," Erik growled, his back turned on Bernard. "I killed him myself."

"Aye, I know, but The Jackal had many followers, someone could have taken up his mantle and is continuing his work–"

"Then that person, will learn all too soon, the grave mistake he has made." Erik's voice was deeper than thunder, and colder than ice. Bernard found himself shivering at the very words, knowing that Erik spoke the truth. If someone were out there, putting on the name of the Black Knight's greatest enemy, they would sorely begin to wish they had never been born.

A loud crashing sound was heard in the courtyard, and both Erik and Bernard turned to look out the window to see what had caused it. Down below, several chickens were flapping about, squawking and clucking, there feathers littering the courtyard, while half a dozen pigs squealed and ran through the space, causing many of the servants to cry out in shock and horror as they tried to stop the rampaging creatures. Erik's eyes narrowed as he heard some devilish giggling, and groaned as his children came running out of the place where the animals had been, their arms filled with eggs and buckets of pig slop, before disappearing around a corner.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Bernard gasped, and Erik's eyes flew to the place where his steward was looking.

Down below, emerging from the same place as his children, came a creature covered, from head to toe, in pig slop, mud, egg yolks, and feathers.

Erik did not have to look twice to realize who the poor creature was.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and marched down the steps of his tower, his strides long and quick, before he himself burst out into the courtyard, surveying the mess and chaos that his demon spawn had created.

Several of Erik's men-at-arms were trying to desperately help his servants with catching the rampaging pigs and chickens, while a few others were running in the direction his children had taken, shouting and carrying pitchforks like some crazed mob. But Erik was entirely focused on the woman who struggled to stand up straight, and was more or less, hobbling into the courtyard.

"God almighty," Erik gasped, taking a good look at his wife, her hair, her dress, her skin, every inch of her, covered in muck. And a nauseating smell also emerged from her, and Erik realized that it wasn't mud that had covered Christine…

"Good God woman, what happened?"

Christine lifted her eyes, trying to push her slop-covered tresses out of her face, and desperately trying to stand as tall as she could, despite the weight of the muck that she now adorned. "What happened?" she asked, softly at first, her eyes focusing on the man whom she had married. "WHAT HAPPENED?" her voice suddenly burst into an angry roar, and her blue eyes blazed with fury at the man before her. "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED! THOSE…THOSE…" she threw one of her hands out in the direction that the children had gone, a huge glob of muck flying from her hand, "YOUR CHILDREN IS WHAT HAPPENED!"

In the short time he had known her, Erik had never seen her like this before…both how she looked, and the way she raged. Last night he had caught a glimpse of the ferocious spirit his meek and mild bride possessed…and much to Erik's surprise, he found that he liked it.

But right now, he could only stare in horror and feel pity for what his bride was going through now.

Christine was shaking all over, and despite the muck and feathers that covered her, she was sure anyone could see her burning red cheeks from the humiliation she was feeling. She only prayed that they couldn't see the tears that were brimming her eyes.

Erik noticed the small crowd that was gathering around them, and even up above, more eyes were gazing down from the various windows of the castle. Even the animals themselves seemed to have stopped squawking and squealing to see what would transpire between the Black Knight and his wife.

Erik took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "Christine–"

"Don't come near me!" she warned, flinging one of her arms out and covering the ground with more muck. "Don't you EVER come near me!" she spat, her voice beginning to betray her as a hiccup of tears could be heard in her throat. She had to get out of there before she started sobbing. With her head held high, she lifted her soiled skirts, and began to march back inside the castle. But just before she reached the entrance into the great hall, she paused…and then turned to face her husband, her eyes capturing his in their own intense blue gaze.

Erik felt his breath leave his body at the way she intensely looked at him, and everyone else seemed to be holding their breath as well, as their new mistress slowly walked back towards her husband, until she was standing right in front of him. And then…

She took a giant glob of muck and slop, and smeared it all over the visible side of his face, before grabbing her skirts and marching back inside the castle, without another look or word.

Now everyone was staring at the Black Knight in sheer horror, unsure exactly what the fearsome man would do. Would he wait until his bride had relaxed, before going in and beating her within an inch of her life for humiliating him? Or would he simply stride into the castle, grab her by the hair, and haul her out into the courtyard to beat her before them?

Instead, Sir Erik turned to look at his quivering servants and cowering men-at-arms, one side of his face hidden by his mask, the other covered in disgusting muck, before growling, "make sure all the pigs and chickens are properly pinned up," before turning on his own heel and exiting the courtyard through another castle entrance.

* * *

No one else saw Christine for the remainder of the day. But for that matter, no one else saw Sir Erik's children, either. Some servants were whispering rumors that Lady Christine had found the children and had extracted her revenge on the little beasts. Others whispered that Sir Erik had extracted his own revenge on Lady Christine for covering half of his face with pig slop. A majority of them believed that Sir Erik deserved what Lady Christine had done, and all of them were whispering how they wouldn't mind if the children never returned.

When the dinner hour came, Sir Erik emerged from his tower, deciding to take the meal in the dining hall rather than in his chambers, hoping to properly reprimand his children for their insolence, as well as see his wife.

All afternoon he had been thinking of Christine, thinking of the torture his children had put her through in just one day! Thinking of the anger and fury she was feeling, of the way she had shouted at him, and how, despite the humiliation she had suffered, how she carried herself with such dignity, like a true woman of noble birth. He was sorely tempted to go to her chamber, but wasn't exactly sure what to say. An apology wasn't nearly enough, and he had a strong feeling that she would not welcome him, no matter what he came to say. So instead, he chose to give her time and hopefully have a moment to talk with her at dinner.

But much to his shock, the dining hall, save for the few servants that were there, was empty.

Was he early? No, his children knew the hours of their meals by heart, and were never late. "Anne!" he bellowed, and the old woman came forward, although her own face was set with grim lines, and she practically dropped the bowl of stew in front of him.

"Your dinner, my lord," she grumbled, before turning her back on him.

Erik reached out and grasped her arm. "Where are the children?"

"How do I know?" she spat, freeing her arm from his iron grasp. "Maybe if you spent more time as a father, you'd, yourself, would know the answer!"

Erik suppressed the frustrating growl that threatened to leave his throat. "What of Christine?" he gently asked, although his words were being spoken through clenched teeth.

Anne straightened her back and glowered at him. "She's taking her meal in her chamber," she clipped. "And if ye spent more time as a husband, ye might understand why!" The old woman shuffled away then, muttering curses to herself as she went.

Erik's own appetite disappeared, and he rose from the table then, his eyes flying to the hallway that led to Christine's chamber. He felt his feet take a tentative step towards it, but then he moved a hasty step back. Before he knew it, he was retreating all the way back to his own chamber, and slamming the door so hard that it practically came off its hinges.

He paced the room for a good long moment, his mind reeling, and his temper fuming! He knew that he should be concerned as to where his children were, but right now he was so angry that he felt it was a good thing that they were missing, for the second he found them, they would wish they had remained missing!

He knew it wasn't going to be easy for Christine. He knew how horrid his children could be, especially Jacob. But he had hoped that somehow, Christine's magic would work on his children…the same way her magic was working on him.

He didn't get much sleep last night because the woman who was now his bride, and who slept in a chamber that was too far away, in his opinion, had plagued his thoughts. Ever since he first met her, there in Pierre's rose garden, there had been something about her that he couldn't quite understand. When he first saw her, he thought her plain, but the more he looked at her, he found something that caused his heart to beat just a little faster. Her eyes were so brilliant; Beatrice, his mistress of four years, and the mother of Jacob and Helena, had blue eyes, but they were nothing like Christine's. And her hair, a soft earthen brown, reminded him of chestnuts and sable fur, and felt even softer.

And her lips...oh dear God in heaven, how sweet her mouth had tasted! He thought he would lose control the second he felt her tongue slide along his! He also recalled how good it felt to lift her in his arms and put her atop his horse…and it felt even better when he sat behind her and held her body against his. Her body, while small in stature, did not lack feminine curves; she had round ample hips, a slim waist, and small, but supple breasts that looked enticing every time she breathed. Once again, he felt his body harden at the thought of her, reminding him how long it had been since he had last bedded a woman.

He threw a curse to the air and flung himself down in the giant armchair by the fire. He couldn't do it, no matter how tempting it was to take her; he had promised himself that the woman he married would be for his children alone, not for himself. Besides, what woman would give her body to the Black Knight of her own free will?

A loud banging on the chamber door roused Erik from his thoughts, and he growled admittance, his face contorted in a frown as a small servant girl cowered inside. "F-f-forgive me, my lord…" she stuttered nervously. "B-b-but t-t-there is something t-t-that…that you should know…"

Five minutes later, Erik was striding down the hallways of his castle, until he came to the place that the servant girl had mentioned, bursting through the door, causing all the occupants inside to gasp and cry out in fear at the sight of the menacing Black Knight, standing in the middle of the female servant's sleeping quarters, his gold eyes blazing as he searched the room.

In the far corner, he saw what he had been searching for, and he marched passed all the cowering women until he was face to face with the woman who now shared his name.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled, his body tense and rigid with rage.

Christine didn't even bother to look up; she was too busy making her bed. "What does it look like, my lord?"

A gasp went up from around the room, and everyone stared at the Black Knight, wondering what he would do next, and wondering what Lady Christine would say.

Erik's jaw was grinding. "You have a room," he growled, dangerously low.

"Aye," Christine murmured, fluffing her pillow. "But there has been a mistake."

"MISTAKE?" Erik roared, and the girls began squealing in fear, except for Christine, who continued to avoid his eyes. Erik ignored all the squealing girls and kept his focus entirely on his wife. "And what, pray tell, is the mistake?" he hissed.

Christine finally lifted her eyes to fiercely look back into his. Erik was shocked by the stubbornness and rage he saw in their blue depths. "I am a servant, my lord," she clipped. "Therefore I thought it fitting that I sleep in the servant's quarters."

"YOU ARE MY WIFE!" Erik roared, grabbing Christine by the shoulders and lifting her up off the bed she had been making.

Christine's hands went to his shoulders and she pushed against him with all her might. "NO! I AM NO WIFE OF YOURS!"

Erik was stunned by her words and practically dropped her from the shock. Christine managed to free herself and she glared at the giant who stood before her, not caring if they had an audience–it seemed only fitting, since every time they confronted each other one was there. "On what grounds am I your wife?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Erik couldn't believe the audacity of her question. His voice was so deep she swore she could feel the ground vibrating beneath her feet. "You…are my wife…" he growled through clenched teeth, "in the eyes of God and the law!"

Everyone gasped when a sudden laugh escaped Christine's throat, even Erik looked shocked by the sound. One of Christine's small hands flew to cover her lips, but she couldn't stop laughing, the very notion of what Erik said was so outrageous. "In the eyes of God and the law?" she finally gasped, her laughter dying away, and her eyes sparkling with passionate vehemence. "I would hardly think that God would approve of our marriage, especially knowing your reasons as to why you took me for your bride."

Whispers could be heard around the room as the other girls leaned in and looked at their master and mistress.

"Our marriage is a disgrace to God!" Christine shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the Black Knight's chest. "And as for the law…well, I highly doubt it would view me as your wife since our marriage was never consummated!"

The whispers turned into a gasp, and all the girls stared at the Black Knight, thinking that their mistress was truly done for now.

Erik however did not flinch, not even once as Christine shouted her accusations at him. He did, however, grab her about the waist, and threw her over his shoulder, not caring if the king himself were in that room, he stomped out of there with the screaming girl over his shoulder, her tiny fists pounding against his back as he carried her all the way back to the tower she occupied, not stopping or speaking until he reached the room and dumped her onto the bed.

Christine gasped as the feather bed practically swallowed her up, but the second she had pushed her hair out of her face, Sir Erik was there, his powerful hands gripping her wrists and holding her arms up over her head, his body leaning over hers and pinning it down to the bed.

"I am only going to say this once…" he growled into her face, his eyes burning like wildfire. "Don't ever embarrass me in front of my household again!"

Christine stared back up at him, her eyes burning with angry tears as she gazed at the man who she had once believed to be her savior, only to see that he was another taskmaster. "I hate you!" she shouted, her words echoing off the chamber walls.

Silence filled the room then. Christine's struggles came to a stop, and Erik stared down at her, his own grip loosening on her wrists. While the mask only covered one side of his face, it truly did make it impossible for her to read his expressions. But she could see something in his eyes…something that mirrored the painful emotions she had felt last night, when she had realized what their marriage was truly about.

And then the pain was gone, replaced by anger, and Erik pushed himself off the bed, his eyes blazing with fury as he stalked towards the door. "Get in line," he grumbled, before leaving the room, the door slam mimicking the roar of the waves that crashed against the rocks beneath the castle.


	9. Discovery and Scheming

**Summery: **In the midst of a raging storm, Christine makes a surprising discovery about the Black Knight, as well as concocts a plan to gain his children's trust...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Discovery and Scheming_**

A storm arose later that night;_ fitting_, Christine thought, since it matched her mood. It was by no means as fierce as the storm that had arisen the night before, but it seemed to herald some sort of impending doom.

Christine rolled over onto her side, trying to shut out the sounds of the storm, as well as escape the events of the day that kept plaguing her mind over and over. She had only spent one day at Winterbourne, and already she found herself longing for her former life. She couldn't stand Carlotta, and she hated Philippe, but at least at the de Coleville's she had friends. Anne was a sweet woman, and the other servants seemed nice as well, but they all looked at her, expecting her to be commanding as their new mistress, and Christine didn't know the first thing about running a household, especially one as large as this castle! And those children…oh what demons they could be! She had truly thought that perhaps she was beginning to win them over that morning, but in one simple insult by Jacob, the little progress she had made, tumbled down all around her.

After returning to her room that afternoon, she checked the bed carefully, making sure there was nothing creeping or crawling or slithering within the sheets, and after Sir Erik had brought her back to the room that evening, she barricaded the door to keep the little brats out. Carlotta had been a horrid child, but she wasn't half as bad as these! Had Sir Erik never bothered to discipline them? He probably was never around to do the work; always believing some servant would take care of it for him. And what of their mothers? She knew that Charles and Helena had different mothers, and that apparently their mothers were never Sir Erik's wives, but what had happened to them? And were there any other unknown women? What about Jacob and the twins? Did they also have different mothers? Did Sir Erik ever marry anyone before her? She had so many questions, but feared no one would ever give her the answers.

She was miserable, there at Winterbourne, and her thoughts wandered back to the night when she left the de Coleville's, and when Robert had told her that should she ever need a place to retreat…she was welcome with him and Meg.

That offer seemed so tempting right now…

Christine's thoughts were interrupted by the soft, distant sound of…wailing? A shiver went through Christine as she remembered some of the ghost stories Robert had told her when she first came to work for the de Coleville's. It was easy to believe in ghosts in such a place as this…

The wail seemed to grow louder, but there also seemed to be something familiar about it. Not being able to lie there and listen to the sorrowful sound, Christine lit a candle by her bed, and slowly pulled on some fur slippers that Anne had given her, before wrapping a shawl around her shift. She moved the barricade away from her door, and slowly stepped out into the hallway, carefully going down the tower steps. Her ears perked as the wail slowly began to turn into sobs.

Was it possibly one of the children?

Despite the wicked tricks they had played on her, Christine could not sit by when a child cried. She held the candle out in front of her and followed the sounds down several twisting halls, listening as the sobs grew louder and louder.

Then, when she reached a hallway where the sound seemed to be strongest, she heard it softly become muffled! Alarmed, Christine hurried towards the door where she saw the faint glow of a candle, but stopped just outside the door, as the sound of a man humming reached her ears.

Christine peeked around the door of the room where the humming and a child's soft sniffling was coming from, and the sight she saw made her heart swell with emotion.

The fearsome Black Knight, the great terror of battle, sat on a small stool, humming to the weeping twins, who lay curled up in his arms, their sobs dying down, more and more, as they listened to their father.

Christine had never seen anything more beautiful…or surprising. No doubt the children had been frightened by the storm, but Sir Erik had heard them crying before anyone else, and despite his reputation as a ferocious soldier, he held them and cuddled them closer to his massive chest, until the last of their sobs disappeared, and their tiny eyes closed as they drifted back to sleep.

She watched as he gently laid them both back in the small bed they shared, tucking the blankets up all around them, before leaning down and gently kissing their sleeping foreheads. Christine quickly ducked behind a stone pillar as he picked up his candle, and quietly exited the room.

_Amazing_, she thought. _The Black Knight does have a heart after all…_

However, her pleasant thoughts towards the man who had married her vanished, when she suddenly felt a hand come up from behind her and cover her mouth.

"A little late for an evening stroll, don't you think, madam wife?"

Christine gasped and turned around, blushing as she realized just how close she was standing before Sir Erik. How had he managed to sneak up behind her? She swore he had just passed her by! How did he know she was there?

"I heard your feet, padding along the stones," Erik explained, seeing the question in her eyes. "Not to mention I could smell you."

Christine's cheeks went red, and she only prayed that the darkness of the hallway concealed her blush. Damn that manure!

"Perhaps you could answer my question?" Erik asked, cocking his visible brow at her, lifting the candle so he could get a good look at her face.

Christine closed her gaping mouth and lifted her chin, trying to look braver than she felt when being this close to him. "Like you, I too heard Sarah and Sabrina's cries, and came to investigate."

"Ah," Erik murmured, his eyes surveying her body beneath the candlelight. She had dropped her shawl when he snuck up on her, and the candlelight revealed a very sensuous outline of her body beneath her pale shift, especially that of her hardened nipples that seemed to be poking through the fabric.

Christine felt his eyes burning through her shift, and quickly folded her arms to cover herself. She was still mad at him and refused to show that he had any affect on her, whatsoever.

"Well…perhaps motherhood suits you after all," he whispered, a smirk creasing his lips at the foul look Christine gave him.

"Perhaps your fatherly skills can be used with the children when they're awake as well!" she shot back, turning on her heel then to leave him standing there.

But Erik was too quick for her, and grasped her arm, forcing her to turn and face him. "I am sorry for what my children did to you, but do not blame me for their bad behavior!" he hissed.

Christine shook his hand off her arm and glared right back at him. "How can you say that? Who should I blame then? Their mothers? I don't see any of them here!"

Christine could tell she struck a nerve, for Erik sucked in a deep breath, and she watched as his hand tightened into a fist, and for a brief moment, she feared she had perhaps gone too far, and would feel the blow of his fist across her face.

But Erik, despite his menacing reputation, was not a man that believed in hitting women. The sign of a man's pathetic character was when he attacked those that were physically weaker than himself. Erik had been called a monster, but he would never allow that word to control his actions when it came to women. He simply straightened himself, causing him to look even larger than he already was, and bowed his head just slightly, before turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Erik sighed and slowly looked over his shoulder. "You have more insults to throw?"

Christine bit her lip. She was not ready to forgive her husband, but she had no right to judge his past. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Today has been…well, rather hellish, and…I…it's just…seeing you just then, with those girls, I…I never would have–"

"Nor would anyone else," Erik murmured, looking past Christine into the room where his twin daughters slept. "Come," he sighed, taking Christine's hand in his. "I'll show you back to your room; no doubt you've already lost yourself in this place, it's quite easy to do, especially at night…"

Christine blushed as she felt Sir Erik's large warm fingers wrap around hers, and she obediently followed him as he led the way back to her tower. He had been right, she observed; she would never have found her way back without his help.

"Anne told me that there had been no sign of the children since this afternoon," Christine murmured as they wound their way through the long twisting hallways and corridors of the castle. "She said that no one had seen them since…well…" she chose not to say anything further, after all, both she and Sir Erik knew what she was talking about.

"I did not know myself, until I heard Sarah and Sabrina crying," Erik replied. "I found both Charles and Helena fast asleep in their beds, still dressed from earlier…and each caked with a thick layer of mud," he muttered.

"What about Jacob?" Yes the boy was a bully, but still, he was only a child, and no child deserved to be lost in a storm.

"If Jacob knows what's best for him, he'll stay away," Erik growled, his grip on Christine's hand tightening slightly.

Christine looked slightly alarmed by her husband's feral growl. She remembered how the child had announced to the whole castle that he would never respect her, just as he never respected his father. How great was the division between father and son? Did the Black Knight beat his son?

"Do not look so shocked," Erik grumbled, noticing Christine's concern. Amazing; even after the way the brat had treated her, her good nature still shined through. "It's not the first time he's stayed out past his bedtime…and not the first time he's gone missing. But he always returns when he's ready…and when I'm not paying attention."

Christine bit her lip as she took in all of her husband's words. While he may not see it as a problem, Christine surely did. Jacob didn't look to be much older than ten, and a child his age should not be allowed to run ramped about the countryside. She could see why the boy knew no boundaries when it came to his behavior; his father never set them–or simply never paid them heed.

They finished their journey in silence, and as they drew closer and closer to her bedchamber, Christine's thoughts began to drift away from the children to that of the muscular man who towered next to her. Suddenly, a giant wave of apprehension washed over her. She was sure that Sir Erik remembered her words when they were arguing in the servant's quarters, about how they had as of yet to consummate the marriage, and she truly began to wonder if such a thing would ever take place. But now…as she stood before the door to her bedchamber, she wondered if perhaps Sir Erik would take advantage of this moment and…fulfill…their marriage vows…

"T-t-thank you," Christine whispered, shakily, as Sir Erik opened the door to her chamber.

Erik said nothing, but slowly realized that his hand still held hers. Their fingers had somehow interwoven, and Erik found that he did not wish to release them. Christine was unsure what to do either. Sir Erik had only held her hand a few times, and all of them had been to guide her somewhere. But right now, as they stood side by side, their hands clasped together, she felt a surge of intense energy course through her…and a strange feeling spread from deep in her belly…all the way between her thighs.

"I am sorry…" he softly murmured, his tone unlike any she had heard him speak with before. Gentle, almost like when she had discovered him humming to the twins. She gazed up at him, her eyes slightly widened with surprise by his words; she even stumbled back from the surprise of it all.

"I will see to it that the children apologize to you," he promised her, his golden gaze locking with hers in an intense stare.

Christine's face fell just slightly at his words. A part of her knew she should appreciate Sir Erik's gesture, he was at least showing that he felt pity for her and did notice the frustration she was experiencing. But an apology from the children, after being forced by him to give it to her, would only make them resent her more…as well as not win their respect. And her husband also had to come to realize that he too was responsible for how they behaved, and for how they were behaving.

Also, the fact still remained that he had deceived her into marrying him. She was not ready to forgive him of that.

"Good night, my lord," Christine simply murmured, releasing his hand and moving into her chamber without another word or glance, before softly shutting the door behind her, leaving him to stand alone in the hall.

Erik stared at the door, his body urging him to go inside, to stop her from walking away, to sample her sweet lips once more, or to at least force her to turn around and shake her until she told him everything that she was thinking. Three days ago, Erik was not aware of the fiery spirit that his young wife possessed, but after only spending one day in his home, he had seen several examples of her temper and passion. Where had it come from? For a woman who had been brought up as a servant, always obeying orders, no matter how atrocious, where had this suppressed side of her come?

He did not know…but he longed to see more, as well as hear her thoughts. Such as what she was thinking at that exact moment, for he read the displeasure she held for him in her eyes.

And he knew, deep in his heart, that she was justified.

* * *

Jacob still remained missing the next day, and Christine seemed to be the only person who was concerned. When she came down for breakfast, only Sarah and Sabrina were found at the table. According to Anne, Helena and Charles had been seen sneaking some food out of the kitchens, before racing off into the courtyard and out of sight.

It was a far more pleasant breakfast than the day before. Christine learned that Sarah and Sabrina were only three, and truly did not possess a horrid bone in their body. At one time they began to pout and wail when they demanded something sweet instead of the porridge that Anne was serving them, but Christine put a stop on that right away, telling them how silly they looked when they scrunched their little faces up and whined.

"See? Don't I look silly when I do it?" she then proceeded to scrunch her own face up and let out a wail. Anne could not help but laugh as Christine mimicked the two girls, and soon the twins were joining in with their own giggles. "I told you it was silly," she grinned at the girls.

"But I don't like porridge," little Sarah complained.

"Me either," Sabrina agreed.

"Well, perhaps we can pretend it's something else?" Christine suggested, dipping her spoon into her own bowl. "What do you like?"

"PUDDING!" both girls chimed in, grinning from ear to ear.

Their smiles were contagious. "All right, pudding then," she took her spoon and put it in her mouth and began murmuring how delicious it tasted. "Oh this pudding is wonderful! So sweet and creamy."

Sabrina frowned slightly. "But it's not pudding…" she pouted.

"No, but when I pretend it is, and concentrate hard enough, I can imagine I'm tasting pudding," Christine explained, smiling at the two girls.

Sarah giggled and dug her spoon into her bowl and proceeded to copy Christine. Christine laughed at the girl's expression as she pretended to be eating the most delicious pudding she had ever tasted. "What sort of pudding do you have?" she asked the child.

"Plum," the girl grinned, liking this game very much.

Sabrina didn't want to be left out and immediately began to copy her sister. "I'm having apple!" she announced, before shoveling a large spoonful into her mouth.

Christine giggled and joined in. "Mine tastes of sweet dates and walnuts," she grinned, as she tasted another spoonful, joining the girls in their newfound feast.

Anne watched with amazement from the corner of the room. She often struggled with getting the twins to eat their breakfast, but this morning, with one simple game, Christine had won them over! There were no complaints, no tantrums; they were actually enjoying their breakfast for the first since…well, ever!

"I still think real pudding tastes better," Sabrina added after finishing her bowl.

Christine smiled at the girl, and was awarded with a bright warm smile in return. "I know what you mean…but it did help, didn't it?"

Both girls nodded their heads, each grinning broadly, and Anne came to remove the bowls and spoons, still amazed that they were empty. "Thank you, Anne," Christine smiled at the old woman, before looking across the table at the twins.

They quickly understood. "Thank you, Anne!"

The old woman looked more astounded by the second.

"Well," Christine rose from her chair. "What shall we do today?"

Suddenly, the twins looked down at their feet and sad expressions quickly creased their little faces. Christine's brow furrowed at this sudden change in emotion and she went around the table to where the two girls sat.

"Jacob won't let us play with him," Sarah pouted.

"And Charles called us whelps!" Sabrina fumed, looking most angry at the word she did not truly understand.

"That's not very nice," Christine agreed, hoping to learn a little more from her two new friends. "Why won't he let you play with him? And why do you think Charles said that?"

"Because we didn't want to stay in the pirate's cave!" Sarah wailed.

"Pirate's cave?" Christine repeated, a frown creasing her brow.

Sabrina nodded. "It's too cold…and it smells icky."

"Jacob said we cried too much, and that we're big babies."

"And then Charles called me a whelp!" Sabrina pouted, folding her arms across her little chest in an angry fashion.

Christine slowly nodded her head, understanding washing over her. So they had a hiding place somewhere around the castle, a hiding place that was cold and smelled bad. If the place truly was a cave, then there was truly only one place where it could be...

"I would very much like to see this pirate's cave," Christine murmured to the twins.

Both Sarah and Sabrina's little faces lit up at her words. "Will you make Jacob play with us?"

"And make Charles say he's sorry?"

Christine bit her lip, not wanting to make promises she couldn't keep. She had a feeling she now knew where Jacob had been all night, and where he frequently disappeared to when he wanted to get away from his father. She also had a feeling this was the very place where Charles and Helena had gone before Christine had come downstairs, and that the food they had taken was not only for themselves, but also for their brother. Jacob, like all bullies, saw his sisters' complaints as a weakness, and now had exiled them from his little club.

That was fine with Christine…she too could play this game.

"Would you like to play a game with me?" Christine asked the girls, and both of them grinned broadly and eagerly nodded their heads. "Good. The game we're going to play is…" she thought for a moment and then came up with a title. "_Knights and Dragons_, and we're the knights."

Sarah squinted her face at this. "But…we're girls. Jacob and Charles say that girls can't be knights."

Christine waved her hand as if that were the silliest thing she had ever heard. "They're dragons, what do they know."

Sabrina gasped. "They're dragons?"

Christine grinned and nodded her head. "Yes, and dragons will tell you lies like that because you see…they're really afraid of us!"

The twins grinned even broader at Christine's words. "They're afraid because we're knights!"

"Exactly! And they know that knights can beat dragons, so they don't want us to believe in ourselves, but we can't let them defeat us!"

The girls were beside themselves, looking most eager to start playing. "What do we do?"

Christine couldn't help but grin back. This really did sound like fun! "First thing's first. A good knight needs to know everything she can about her enemy. So, what we need to do, as quietly as possible, is find this pirate's cave where our dragons hide."

Sabrina giggled, looking most excited. "Papa can help us! He's a knight! He'll know how to–"

"No." Christine felt her face go red as she realized she had just interrupted the child when she mentioned Sir Erik. Both girls looked disappointed and Christine felt horrible for squashing their hopes. "What I mean is…not yet, at least," Christine cut in, glad to see their smiles return. "You see, the Black Knight has been lied to by the dragons as well."

"He has?" both girls gasped.

Christine nodded her head. "He too, doesn't think that girls can be knights, but we must prove to him that we are just as brave and fearless as he!"

"How will we prove it?" Sarah asked, her excitement radiating in her bright green eyes.

That was an excellent question. "By catching a dragon," she announced, as soon as the thought came to her.

Suddenly both girls looked nervous. "C-c-catching a dragon?"

"Yes," Christine continued, amazed at how much of this was coming just from a whim. "If we can catch one of the dragons, the Black Knight will see how brave we are, and join us in battling the other dragons."

Both girls clapped their hands, looking most eager to start playing. "But there is something very important to keep in mind," Christine murmured in a hushed voice, and the twins leaned in closely to hear her. "No matter what, we mustn't tell the others! If they find out, they will begin drawing up battle plans!"

"Can we tell Papa?" Sabrina softly asked.

"Not yet," Christine whispered. "But hopefully, very soon."

The girls seemed satisfied by this and then eagerly scrambled down from their chairs, each of them taking one of Christine's hands. "We'll show you where the dragons hide!" they both announced in hushed whispers, before tugging on her hands to lead her away.

Christine couldn't believe the story she had gotten herself into! But a grin spread over her face as she realized that perhaps her life here at Winterbourne would not be so bad. For the first time in her life, she was having fun.

* * *

"I HATE CHRISTINE!" Carlotta shrieked, picking up a flowerpot and throwing it across the room, not caring that the dirt had spread everywhere or that it had smashed into a hundred pieces. "I HATE HER! I HATE HER! I HATE HER!"

"SHUT UP!" Philippe roared, his head pounding from listening to his sister's complaints for the last hour. All week, Carlotta had done nothing but shriek and scream and pout and throw things, all in her anger that Christine had married the wealthy Black Knight, and she was left there, practically penniless, without any suitors or marriage proposals.

Word was slowly starting to get out that Pierre de Coleville had no money left. But what was worse was the gossip that was spreading near and far about how the Black Knight snubbed the beautiful Carlotta de Coleville…to instead, marry a servant.

It seemed that no man wanted Carlotta after that, and it didn't help that her tantrums were growing worse each day. The day after the Black Knight had taken Christine, Lady Maria sent hundreds of invitations out to barons, nobles, and knights, from the old to the young, just so long as they had land and money, and only a handful had replied.

"SHE STOLE MY HUSBAND!" Carlotta fumed, searching for something else in the room to throw.

"You didn't even want to marry him in the first place!" her brother accused, his patience thinning every second.

"BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN I WANTED CHRISTINE TO MARRY HIM!" she shouted, finding something else that was breakable, and flinging it across the room with all her might.

Philippe rose from the place he sat and stalked over the to the window, gazing out at the ravaged vegetable garden below, a place that was slowly starting to become more and more of their dinner source. "What we need is a way to find Christine…a way to somehow, 'remove her', so to speak, from the Black Knight, and get you in the marriage bed, instead."

Carlotta glared at her brother. "You don't care about me, you just want to get your hands on Christine! I don't know what you see in her," she flopped down on a cushioned chair and pouted. "It's not like she's pretty or anything."

Philippe ignored his sister and kept his eyes focused on two servants that were working in the garden. One was a large man and the other an extremely pregnant woman. Philippe never paid attention to the servants, however he did recall seeing Christine talk with the pregnant woman before…

"I think I have an idea on how to solve both our problems, dear sister," Philippe murmured, his eyes never leaving the servants as they toiled together in the garden.

Carlotta's silver-blonde brow creased with confusion. "What are you babbling about?"

"Go find mother," Philippe commanded, not even bothering to turn and look at her. "Tell her we need more money."

Carlotta rolled her eyes. "Papa won't allow it! He's already denied you money since you've returned! It won't matter how much Mama complains!"

"Then that will simply mean we'll have to…let go…of the things that tie us down," he growled evilly, his eyes never leaving the pregnant couple.


	10. Knights and Dragons pt 1

**Summery: **The game begins. Christine and the twins bond, while Sir Erik finds himself worrying. Also, a chance encounter with Lady Ophelia leaves Christine wondering about the man she married...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Knights and Dragons (pt. 1**)_

"That's the pirate's cave," little Sarah whispered, pointing a small chubby finger in the direction of the large, menacing looking black hole that swamped a good portion of the rocky cliff that Winterbourne sat on.

Christine had never imagined scaling down the cliff to explore the tiny beach just below Winterbourne. She was surprised that such a thing existed! She had assumed that the water came all the way up to the mountain, but the twins had quietly explained to her from their hiding place, that at night, the tide came in and covered the entire beach with water, but by morning, the small strip of land would be revealed once more.

It was only during daylight that a person could reach the cave. At night, if someone was trapped inside, they would have to wait until morning, or take their chances with the sea.

Christine shivered at the thought of Jacob being trapped inside such a place. Even if he chose to stay, she still thought it was foolish. He could freeze! Drown! Any number of atrocities could occur! And would anyone care? That was the sad part, Christine realized. She knew none of the other servants liked Sir Erik's children, especially Jacob…and Sir Erik himself had all but revealed that he didn't mind his son's occasional disappearances.

Something had to be done before serious injury…or worse, happened to that boy.

"Helena is coming!" Sabrina gasped, ducking low with her sister and Christine on the seaweed covered rock that they hid behind. Just as the child had said, the girl with the bright red ringlets came stumbling down the cliff's edge, just outside of the cave, with Charles right behind her. Still no sign of Jacob, but judging from the sacks that both children carried, Christine had a feeling that the little tyrant had sent his younger brother and sister on an errand to bring him more food.

"What do we do now?" both girls asked, looking to Christine for leadership.

"Well, it's too soon to ambush the dragons, even if their leader is all alone. We need to think of a battle plan before we attack. Our key here is strategy!"

"Strattigee?" Sabrina repeated.

"It means, being clever and outsmarting the dragons," Christine softly explained. "Come, let's quietly follow Charles and Helena and see where they go…"

The twins grinned and quietly followed Christine back up the smooth slope that they had shown her, their eyes remaining locked on the distant pair who were also being sneaky in how they approached the castle.

In the short time Christine had joined forces with the twins, she had learned of various secret passages that the castle contained, as well as the quickest ways to get from one place to another. The girls were proving to be a vital asset, even if their older brother thought them simply "babies".

She watched as both Helena and Charles snuck over to a pile of rocks just next to one of the castle's high walls. She gasped as she noticed the children, with great effort, roll one of the rocks away, to reveal a dirt hole dug deeply into the earth. Sarah and Sabrina had told her the hole was truly a tunnel that Jacob and spent two years digging! It apparently went under the wall's foundation, and opened up into the very room the children were seeking…the storage cupboard where much of the castle's food supply was kept.

Christine held the girls back from following their siblings, and for a good fifteen minutes, they waited, until finally, Charles and Helena emerged again, this time with their sacks bulging. "Where do think Sarah and Sabrina are?" Helena asked her brother as they sealed their entrance with the rock.

"Who cares," Charles grumbled, pushing against the rock with all his might.

Christine clamped her hand over the twins' mouths to keep them from sputtering in disgust.

"You don't think they're with _her_, do you?"

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "So what? They're just big babies that cry and complain."

Helena glanced towards the castle, a nervous expression crossing over her pretty features. "She probably told Papa…and has given the order to have us flogged the first second we step back inside the castle!"

Christine's brow furrowed at this news. They thought she would have them flogged? They needed discipline, yes, but not the kind that required whips.

"That's why we'll be very careful," Charles replied, hoisting his sack over his little shoulders. "And not let anyone see us!"

Helena made a face. "Jacob thinks we should stay in the cave tonight. But I can't stand the smell!"

Charles tried to puff his chest up to look bigger and older than he really was. "Men can handle it. But you're just a girl."

Helena dropped her sack and grabbed her brother by the scruff of his neck. "What did you say?" she threatened, shaking him good and hard.

Charles began to whimper and tremble under her grasp. "Don't pinch me! I didn't mean it!"

Helena released him then, looking quite smug as Charles scrambled up off the ground. "I'm telling Jacob!" he wailed, before grabbing his sack and running down the slope Christine and the twins had only come up a short time ago, with Helena at his heels.

So there was division in the ranks it seemed. Perhaps mutiny would come easier than she had expected…

She released her hold on the twins' mouths and they quickly turned and looked at her expectantly. "What do we do now?"

Christine eyed the pile of rocks and grinned. "We cut off their food supply."

* * *

Erik burst out into the courtyard; his eyes wild as he looked around, searching amongst the servants who were deep into their work, cursing when the face he was looking for, could not be found.

"My lord?"

Erik turned to see Bernard approaching him. "Have you seen Lady Christine…or my children?" he asked the steward, trying to sound as calm as possible. Ever since he had woken that morning he had been searching for her! He cursed himself for sleeping in later than usual; he normally woke at sun up, but after last night's storm, and the words that had been exchanged with his wife, sleep was next to impossible, and when he did finally fall asleep, dawn was nearly upon him.

Bernard's brow furrowed at the concern he could hear in his master's voice, although he was not entirely positive as to what caused this concern. "My wife has taken our boys to go and greet Lady Christine, perhaps she is with her?"

Erik saw reasoning behind that, although he still could not shake his worry. The castle had been far too quiet; he half expected to hear crashes, screams, and young maniacal giggles, but instead, everything seemed…peaceful.

He wanted to grab a hold of all his children, especially his oldest son, and take them directly to his wife's chamber and have them apologize to her right then and there! He didn't care if he had to throw all the little imps over his shoulders, Anne had been right about one thing; disrespect to Christine was disrespect to him!

But there was no sign of the little demons anywhere. And Anne had informed him that Christine had been up and about hours ago. He cursed himself again, hating that he overslept; he did not want Christine to think him lazy like that damn Pierre de Coleville.

"My lord, I have just received a reply from his majesty about those ships," Bernard attempted to distract his master.

"What ships?" Erik muttered, walking towards the pig stalls and carefully inspecting them to see if his children, or wife, were anywhere in sight.

"The ships that I was telling you about yesterday, the ships that several farmers south of here have spotted, along the coastline, bringing heavy trunks on land and hiding the trunks inside these mysterious caves."

Erik brushed past his steward and began to cross the courtyard towards the stables. "Were they the king's ships?"

"Nay," Bernard groaned, trying his best to keep up with his master's long strides. "But his majesty is not so sure they are pirates either. His spies have not given him any information on pirate activity."

Erik snorted. "The king's spies are damn useless and you know it," he growled, carefully checking each horse stall.

"That is a matter of opinion, my lord," Bernard grumbled, "but his majesty does ask that you inspect these caves or send someone in your stead, so that it can be confirmed whether or not this is pirate activity."

"Trust me, its pirates," Erik growled, now looking up into the wooden rafters of the stable, his eyes narrowing on a hayloft. Without another thought, he began to climb the latter that led directly to the hayloft.

Bernard groaned again; it was like conversing with a stone wall. "How shall I reply to his majesty?"

Erik reached the hayloft and ducked low; if he stood up straight he'd hit the rafters. "What do you mean?" he asked, while beginning his search through the endless piles of hay.

"Shall I tell him that you will inspect the caves? Or that you will send someone else?" Bernard asked with exasperation.

Erik stopped his searching through the hay and looked down at his steward, cocking his one visible brow. Bernard gulped and quickly looked at his feet, his face burning red. "Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean to shout–"

"Tell his majesty I shall inspect them, myself," Erik replied, his voice calm and even, something that Bernard was not used to. "If they are pirates, as I know they are, it may take the flag of the Black Knight to keep them from these shores."

Bernard let out a relieved sigh, and nodded his head. "Thank you my lord, I shall reply right away." He turned to go, but Sir Erik's rumbling voice stopped him.

"Wait! There's something I wish for you to do first…" he murmured, as he began to climb down from the hayloft.

Bernard stared at his master for a moment, trying to think of what could be more urgent and important than responding to his majesty. "Yes, my lord?"

"Rally the men and have them wait for me in the courtyard. I shall be there shortly."

Bernard's eyes widened with surprise. "So soon, my lord? You wish to go and inspect the caves right now?"

Erik stared at Bernard as if he had grown another head. "What? No! But it looks as if I will need their aid for something just as…no," he paused, his golden eyes growing fierce. "For something even more important than thwarting pirates."

* * *

"All done!" Sarah announced gleefully, wiping her hands proudly for the work she had done.

"Me too! Me too!" Sabrina bounced, grinning from ear to ear. Both girls gazed up at Christine with pride and expectation for how their leader would next instruct them.

"Very good," Christine grinned, admiring their handiwork. For the last hour, they had been secretly moving the dried meat, fruits, vegetables, salt, and any other spices they could find, out of the pantry, and into a dozen large barrels that would be transported to another area of the castle that, according to the twins, contained no secret passages or trap doors.

"And to think, after all these years, I thought it was rats!" Anne sighed, inspecting the empty pantry with awe. Christine was grateful they had sought the old woman's help; she knew they would never have been able to clean out the pantry without her direction.

"I'll get some boys from the kitchen to move these barrels at once, and I'll inform the girls where the food is being stored when it comes time to prepare supper."

"Wait!" Sarah cried out, jumping in front of Anne to stop her from leaving the pantry.

Anne looked down at the small child, still amazed that she could recognize the girl without her screaming and wailing. "Yes, child?"

"You have to swear an oath to us that you will tell no one of what we did!"

"That's right!" Sabrina chirped, standing beside her sister. "If you break your oath, then you're a dragon!"

Anne glanced at Christine, who was trying to conceal her giggles with her hand. "Very well," the old woman agreed. "What must I say to prove to you my loyalty?"

Suddenly the twins looked confused, and they quickly turned to Christine for some help in this matter. "Oh! Oh yes, of course, I am the one to give the secret oath, forgive me," she apologized to the two girls, before grinning at the old woman, but trying to look stern and serious…like her dark husband. "Do you, Anne of Winterbourne, lady knight of the…kitchens," she quickly filled in, and the two girls began to giggle, while the old woman stood tall, her head lifted high. "Do you solemnly swear, here, before your fellow knights, that you will uphold our badge of honor, and never betray us or tell our secrets, lest you fear being fed to vicious dragons?"

The two girls had stopped giggling and were staring up with wonder at the old woman before them. "I do," Anne agreed, finding herself grinning as the twins gave a triumphant cry.

"Wonderful!" Christine clapped her hands. "Lady Anne of the Kitchens shall take care of our barrels, while we must make haste before those dragons return for more booty! Quickly girls, back to the beach!"

Carefully and quietly, so as not to draw any attention to themselves, Christine and the twins crept up the winding steps that led to the pantry, and passed the kitchens, creeping down the hallway that passed the dining hall, and–

"Lady Christine?"

Christine froze as she heard her name being spoken. The twins gasped and quickly moved to hide behind the young woman's skirts, as Christine slowly turned to see the person who had called her name.

It was a lady! A woman who was elegantly dressed, in a dark green tunic with a yellow sash, as well as a yellow net that she wore in her long auburn hair. She was very beautiful, Christine thought, and had a very lovely smile that radiated genuine warmth and curiosity. Beside her stood two young boys, each dressed just as well as their mother, with midnight blue tunics, doe skin breeches, and knee-high shiny black leather boots.

"Good afternoon!" the woman greeted, grinning and then giving an elegant curtsy, while the two boys bowed. "Oh I am so glad to have found you! I did not have the opportunity to speak with you yesterday, and so wanted to meet you!"

Christine was blushing, knowing the reasons as to why the woman could not come and speak with her yesterday, but was grateful for the lady's politeness. She then realized where she had seen this woman before.

"You must be Ophelia!" Christine grinned, curtsying back to the woman. "Bernard has told me so much about you! Oh, please, the honor is all mine." Sarah and Sabrina peeked out from behind Christine's skirts, eyeing the woman and the two boys suspiciously.

"These are my sons, Karl and Luc," Ophelia introduced. "Oh! And I see Lady Sarah and Lady Sabrina are with you," Ophelia grinned warmly, before curtsying again.

The girls looked up at Christine, who gave them a knowing nod, and they too curtsied back to the woman. "Good afternoon, Lady Ophelia," they murmured shyly. Once introductions had been properly made, both Sarah and Sabrina grabbed a hold of Christine's hands and began to tug her away, eager to get the supplies they needed to battle the dragons.

"Now girls," Christine whispered, trying to show them that their behavior wasn't polite, but she could understand their excitement. She turned to Karl and Luc, both of whom looked to be Helena's age, and said, "The twins and I were about to go exploring on the beach. Perhaps you would join us?"

Ophelia smiled and looked at her sons, who were also eyeing the twins with suspicion, but who agreed once their mother placed a gentle, yet firm hand, on their shoulders. One of the twins squeaked and tugged on the hem of Christine's gown. "But the dragons will see us!" she hissed so that Ophelia and the boys couldn't hear.

Christine shook her head. "If they do see us, they will think nothing of it, other than we are walking along the beach with Lady Ophelia and her sons." She then winked at the girl, who grinned and nodded her head with understanding.

The group left the castle then, going down the cliff's well-trodden footpath, leading to the tiny beach just beneath the castle. Sarah and Sabrina jumped ahead of the others, and eagerly began to pick up seaweed, barnacles, and any shells they could find, stuffing the items into two burlap sacks that they carried. Ophelia's sons looked to their mother, who nodded her head, giving them permission to also go and explore the beach, leaving the two women in peace.

Ophelia smiled and turned to Christine. "I must say how happy I am that you are here," she sighed wistfully. "It will be so nice having another woman here to talk to. The servants of course are wonderful, but naturally they are too busy to spend time sitting and sharing idle gossip."

Bernard had told her much about Ophelia, and from his descriptions, the woman sounded like Meg in many ways; warm, caring, and outgoing. Now, that she had actually met the woman face to face, Christine could see that her suspicions had been correct.

"I understand you were a servant?"

The question startled Christine somewhat; she had been watching the twins attempt to untangle a long bit of seaweed from a large rock. "I…well…" Christine felt her cheeks burn brightly. She wasn't ashamed of the life she lived, but she knew it was most unusual for a man of noble birth to take a servant for a wife.

"Oh please! I apologize, I did not mean to offend," Ophelia gasped, her pretty face glowing with embarrassment. "I myself was a poor farmer's daughter, I only meant to ask because I wanted you to know that…that I understand, how it feels, to suddenly be thrust into a strange new world."

Christine's smile returned as she looked at her new friend. Indeed, she liked Ophelia very much. "Yes, I was a servant, at the home of Baron Pierre de Coleville," Christine replied. "And it certainly was…different, compared to Winterbourne."

Ophelia nodded her head. "I only know what the servants have told me, so forgive me for prattling idle gossip. But from what I understand, Sir Erik had gone to meet de Coleville's daughter, but instead, snubbed her, to marry you!"

Christine's brow furrowed slightly. That was certainly a different way of telling it. The thought of anyone snubbing Carlotta was both humorous, as well as preposterous. But then again, perhaps that was what Sir Erik had done in choosing to marry her?

Christine quickly shook her head, reminding herself, once more, that Sir Erik didn't choose her; or at least, not the way she had wanted to be chosen.

"Forgive me if this sounds too forward," Ophelia murmured with a grin. "But I must say, your story does sound very romantic."

Christine was surprised by Ophelia's words. "W-w-what?" she looked at the woman with wide, questioning eyes. Romantic?

"Oh yes, of course, very romantic!" Ophelia grinned. "Why, Sir Erik, a man of great wealth and power, choosing to marry a servant girl who he meets rather than the daughter of a baron…" she sighed wistfully. "My husband, Bernard, did something similar. My father was a poor tenant on this land, and when I was younger, I would deliver barley wheat to Winterbourne Castle. And one day, I met a very handsome young man who was of a higher class than mine…but he didn't care, he wished to court me and marry me, and here we are," she grinned, smiling at her two boys who were now helping the twins with removing the seaweed from the rocks.

Christine had to admit, the way that Ophelia described her brief courtship and unexpected marriage to Sir Erik did sound quite romantic, however it paled in comparison to the true romantic tale of how Bernard and Ophelia met.

"Oh goodness, that was nearly twelve years ago," Ophelia sighed. "I had just turned sixteen. And in a little over a year after our marriage, Karl was born. And two years later, Luc came into our lives." She smiled as she watched the children play together and then looked at Christine with admiring eyes. "I know that Sir Erik's children can be…well…a handful doesn't quite cut it…"

Christine couldn't help but smile at the woman's choice of words.

"But they are good children, truly, they just…they need some guidance."

Ophelia was a saint; she was the first person here at Winterbourne that actually seemed to not see Sir Erik's hellish children as demons. And Christine was slowly beginning to see that as well…

"And Sir Erik, I know he seems…well…fierce," Ophelia murmured, somewhat nervously. Christine hid her smile; fierce didn't even begin to describe her husband, and yet fierce would be the last thing anyone would think if they had seen him last night with the twins. "But he truly is a good man," Ophelia insisted, as if she were trying to convince herself as well as Christine. "And he I know he loves those children. He must! Why else would…"

Christine looked at Ophelia with questioning eyes and the woman quickly looked down, her face flooding with color as she realized she had said too much. "Forgive me," Ophelia murmured, forcing a smile. "I um…I spoke out of place."

"No, please," Christine clasped the woman's arm and slowly drew her back, giving them a good piece of distance from the children. "I know that two of Sir Erik's children have different mothers, but what of the others?" she asked in a hushed voice. "What of little Sarah and Sabrina?" Ophelia looked uncomfortable and Christine mentally cursed herself. She did not wish to ruin her new friendship, but she was desperate to learn some answers. "Please, Ophelia, I swear I will keep your confidence. I just…perhaps by knowing more about the children, it will help me to…well, to be the mother they need."

Ophelia looked at Christine for a moment, as if trying to decide whether it was wise to reveal what she did know about the Black Knight's past, and then glanced over as she heard the twins giggle as they played with Karl and Luc. Christine certainly was making a difference for the better, it seemed…

"I can not tell you much, not because I do not trust you, for I do! But because my knowledge is extremely limited…" she sighed and leaned closely to Christine's ear. "I know nothing of Sarah and Sabrina's mother, and Charles' mother was…" she blushed ever so slightly, "a prostitute, from a small village many miles away. How Charles came to be here, I don't know, but Helena and Jacob, they share the same mother."

"Sir Erik's mistress," Christine murmured softly to herself. The lady with the fiery tresses that her husband apparently compared to a sunset, at least according to Helena. She had no doubt that the woman was a great beauty; did Sir Erik love her? Just because he did not marry her did not mean that he didn't love her. She had heard stories of wealthy nobles who married for money or land or titles, but who truly loved their mistresses, women below their station that the law would never see as a proper union. Perhaps her husband loved that woman…which would explain why it seemed he had never married any other until now. Perhaps he still loved her…

"My lady?" Ophelia bit her lip, fearing she had revealed too much. No one ever talked about the women who had bore the Black Knight's children; it was something that stirred up too many painful memories.

Christine woke from her trance and focused entirely on Ophelia, her brow creased with a need to understand. "You said you've been here for nearly twelve years?"

Ophelia looked confused by nodded her head. "Aye…"

"Then you must have been here when Sir Erik's mistress was here. Jacob cannot be older than twelve, so she must have been here when you arrived! Did you know her by any chance?"

Ophelia's eyes widened in stunned surprise at Christine's question. "Nay! I…I only know that her name was Beatrice, and shortly after she gave birth to Helena, she disappeared."

Christine's face paled momentarily at the woman's words. "Disappeared?"

Ophelia nodded her head, wrapping her arms around her body as a fierce wind came up across the sea. "Aye. I don't know where or why she left, but she disappeared, leaving her children here with Sir Erik. But Sir Erik has never once threatened to abandon them or kick them out. As I mentioned before, I don't know how Charles came to be here, but Sir Erik welcomed him, as he also welcomed Sarah and Sabrina. Which is why, I think, despite his menacing reputation, he must love them."

Christine mutely nodded her head, swallowing the lump that had developed in her throat. The woman's words made perfect sense; her husband was extremely intimidating, and yet, as she had observed last night, his heart did seem to hold a soft place for the children…

But then again, she recalled the way he spoke about his oldest son, how if Jacob knew what was best for him, he'd stay away, which was exactly what the boy was doing! Perhaps it was because Jacob's mother, this woman by the name of Beatrice…who just mysteriously disappeared…

Perhaps the love her husband displayed for his children only extended to those who were not Beatrice's? Perhaps she was wrong to assume Sir Erik loved the woman? Perhaps…he was responsible for her sudden and mysterious disappearance…

"Karl! Luc!" Ophelia called, clapping her hands. "Come! Time to return home!"

"Oh but Mama…" Luc whined, making a face.

"You still have your lessons to finish!" Ophelia reminded, folding her arms across her chest and fixing both her sons with a strict look. The two boys reluctantly trudged towards their mother, while the twins waved goodbye to them. "I apologize," Ophelia murmured, turning to Christine. "Both for having to leave, and…well…"

"No, please," Christine felt horrible for making the woman talk about something she was obviously not comfortable with. "I am the one who should apologize; my mother always told me I was a nosy girl, and I suppose I still am in many ways."

Ophelia smiled softly at Christine, her eyes filled with understanding. "I hope I was helpful in some way."

"You were," Christine reassured, although the few answers she had received, unfortunately, only sprouted more questions.

"Look! Look!" the twins cried out, running towards Christine with their burlap sacks, opening them proudly to show the treasures they had found.

Christine forced her thoughts aside and focused on the two girls. "Perfect. Now let us hurry back to the castle to set our plan into motion." The twins gave a joyful squeal and hurried up the footpath, with Christine close behind. She tried to join in their merriment and allow the fun of their game to overtake her once more, but her new thoughts would not go away.

When she first met Sir Erik, he came across as frightening and powerful; then he surprised her with his kiss, awaking strange feelings that she had never experienced before. To confuse her even more, he revealed his true intentions for marrying her, and then once again, last night, those feelings returned, and she felt new feelings, as she caught a glimpse of his tender nature as he comforted his twin daughters. Now, she had learned more about him, and about the women that had been in his life before her. She knew she shouldn't judge him for his past, but what were these women to him? Were they anything? And why did Jacob and Helena's mother simply disappear? Who was this man that she had married? What sort of person was he? What was he capable of doing?

A chill went down her spine at the many different thoughts that sprung from that question. Whatever the answer, she was determined to find out.


	11. Knights and Dragons pt 2

**Summery:** The game continues. Christine and the twins outsmart the older children, not realizing that Sir Erik and his men are on the hunt...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Knights and Dragons (pt. 2)_**

Servants gathered in the courtyard, murmuring to one another as Sir Erik's men-at-arms were assembled, each dressed for battle and sitting atop their horses. A hush went up over the courtyard as the Black Knight emerged from the castle, his black armor glistening in the sunlight, his helmet perched atop his head, his golden eyes glistening with ferocity. The stable boy who had fetched Sir Erik's stallion gulped as he watched the giant man stride towards the horse and grip it's reins.

The men sat up straight, their jaws set, their faces grim, as they awaited their orders.

"I am pleased to say…I have never in all my life, fought alongside more valiant, courageous, and loyal warriors, than you! Together, we have won many battles, for God, king, and country!"

A great cheer went up amongst the men, and Erik felt his chest swell with pride.

"We have faced many dangers together!" he shouted. "Heathen barbarians, enemies from distant lands, and marauding pirates."

A grumble went up from the men as they recalled some of the heated battles they had fought with the Black Knight.

"And yet, what we will pursue today is nothing compared to those treacherous fiends of the past! Today, we hunt a different enemy! An enemy that may appear innocent, but do not let their faces fool you! They are cunning, they are brutal, and they will not show mercy!"

Several of the men seemed to tremble at their master's words. Others exchanged confused glances.

"When you find them…for we shall be victorious," Erik growled. "Bring them to me. Do not harm them, no matter how great the temptation may be; I will deal with their punishment. But be cautious, for as I said, they are a cunning lot, and will use whatever means they can to free themselves. Understood?"

The men gave a cheer, although Bernard stepped forward, a bad feeling coming over him as he lifted his eyes to the Black Knight's. "My lord? How shall we know the enemy? By what name do they have?"

Erik mounted his horse, his powerful thighs gripping the animal as he slid his feet into the stirrups. He took the reins in one large fist and fixed his gaze on his steward, before looking at his men, daring any of them to laugh at what he next said. "These fiendish rogues, these cunning adversaries are…my children."

* * *

Helena groaned as she and her younger brother Charles crawled into the castle's pantry from their outside tunnel. She was tired of having to listen to the boys' complaining, as well as their orders. She was extremely upset with Jacob, who seemed to have taken Charles' side, when it came to ordering someone about. Ever since she and Charles and arrived at the cave that morning, all Jacob had done was tell her to go and fetch water, and then go get some blankets from the castle, and then go and fetch some sweet dates, and so on and so forth. The only time Jacob ever ordered Charles about was when he wanted them to go and get some food from the pantry. Helena had confronted her brother on why he was only making her do all the work, instead of Charles, and his response was laughing in her face, before grumbling how it was a woman's job to serve the men, and that men didn't have to work.

Helena was so furious she picked up a rock and threw it at her brother, which then resulted in him pushing her out of the cave and ordering her to take Charles to the pantry and get him some more food.

She had just about had enough of this stupid standoff. It wasn't the first time they had spent time away from the castle, but normally it was just for a day. Jacob had talked about staying there till…well, till forever, if need be! Last night when she and Charles had taken the twins back to the castle, Jacob made it quite clear that he wasn't leaving. He then made it known that should either she or Charles leave, like the twins, he wouldn't allow them in his cave.

His cave; who did he think he was? They never would have found the cave if it hadn't been for her! She had discovered it when Charles was just a baby, and yet ever since that day, Jacob kept referring to it as if he owned it.

"Next time Jacob asks for something, I think we should send him to go and fetch it," Helena grumbled to her younger brother.

Charles eyed her suspiciously. "Are you going to stay in the cave tonight?"

Helena didn't want to, she had been in that cave too much today, and she preferred sleeping in her own bed. But she didn't want to be left out if she didn't follow Jacob's rules. "Are you?" she countered, returning Charles' suspicious gaze.

Charles nodded his head, once again trying to look older. "Of course! Real men don't need beds; we're much tougher than stupid girls."

Without warning, Helena grabbed Charles by the ear and twisted it until the boy was on his knees, crying for her to let him go. "I warned you earlier!" she snarled. "I may be a girl, but I can still whip you!" She released him and Charles glared back at her, trying to hide the fact that she had made him cry.

"Let's just get the things we were sent for and get out of here," he grumbled, pushing past her towards a barrel where he knew fruit was kept. Helena went to a cabinet where she could find dry food, but once she opened it…she let out a gasp.

"Charles! The food is gone! There's…" she peeked closely. "Seashells! And…what is that?" she poked her finger at a strange looking sea creature, and shrieked when her face was sprayed with some kind juice.

Charles began laughing, but his laughter quickly died as he opened the barrel, dug his hand in, and instead of retrieving some fruit, got a slimy handful of seaweed. "Eeewww! Get it off me! Get it off me!" he wailed, trying to shake the stuff off, but it only seemed to tangle.

Helena wiped her face, thoroughly disgusted, then began to throw open all the barrels, cabinets, and anything else she could find, gasping as everywhere she looked, she found shells, seaweed, and rocks…but no trace of food. "It's all gone! There's nothing here!"

Suddenly, in the distance, her young ears picked up the sound of giggling. "Shut up, Charles!" she barked, the boy still wailing about the seaweed. She listened closely to the giggling…and realized that it was several kinds of giggling. She heard two young voices…little girl voices. Sarah and Sabrina! And…a woman's voice?

It couldn't be…could it?

"We have to go back and tell Jacob!" Helena whispered, pushing her brother towards their secret tunnel.

"B-b-but we don't have any food! Jacob said if we don't bring any food back, we can't stay in the cave!"

"Oh hang what he said!" Helena groaned, before pushing her brother into the tunnel, and quickly following.

As soon as the two had left the pantry, Christine and the twins burst in, both of them giggling uncontrollably. "I…I w-w-wish…" little Sarah giggled. "I w-w-wish we could…h-h-have s-seen t-t-them!"

"M-m-me too!" Sabrina laughed, grinning up at Christine.

Christine shared in the girls' victory over their older siblings, but while listening to the brief conversation between Helena and Charles, she had learned a few interesting facts. It sounded as though Helena was ready to break ranks. As the only girl, she was now outnumbered, and despite her seniority over Charles, it sounded as though Jacob was taking the other boy's side, more so than his sister's. Perhaps with a little persuasion, they could gain another allie…

"What do we do now?" Sarah asked, tugging on Christine's skirt.

"I think I have a plan…" Christine grinned, "but it will require great bravery, not to mention some cunning spy work." The twins gasped, their green eyes going wide at her words. Christine couldn't help but smile. "Do you think you're up for it?"

* * *

"What do you MEAN there was no food?" Jacob bellowed, his golden eyes blazing with fury as he listened to his brother and sister tell him of their "adventure" in the castle pantry.

"Just as we said!" Helena grumbled, folding her arms over her chest. "There is absolutely nothing there! Just seaweed, and shells, and…" she trembled as the memory of the creature that spat at her returned.

Jacob was furious. He rose up from his "throne" (a rock that was shaped in the form of a chair) and began to pace the cave wildly. "It has to be somewhere! Food just doesn't get up and walk about on its own!"

"Maybe the cook used it all?" Charles suggested, nibbling on a leftover piece of bread.

"Don't be stupid!" Jacob snarled, muttering curses under his breath. "How would that explain the seaweed? Someone took the food out…and put the seaweed there in its place!" He whirled around to face Helena, who looked shocked by the accusing way he was staring at her. "Someone saw you!"

Helena gasped. "No! I double checked! No one could have seen us! We're the only ones who know of the hiding place!"

Charles paled. "Maybe it was Sarah and Sabrina!"

Both Helena and Jacob rolled their eyes. "They're too young and stupid. No, someone saw you!" Jacob accused again, glaring once more at his sister.

"Why are you blaming me?" Helena defended, her own set of golden eyes glaring into her brother's. "Charles was right with me, and he didn't see anyone either!"

"It was your job to be the lookout!" Jacob growled. "And when you weren't paying attention, they saw you use the secret tunnel!"

"I was paying attention!" Helena defended once more.

Jacob snorted at her words. "You're always too busy playing with your hair to be paying attention." He turned his back on her then and marched back to his throne. "Don't come back until you get us some more food."

Helena's mouth fell open at Jacob's order. "WHAT?"

"You heard me!" Jacob barked, sitting down and munching on some leftover dates.

Helena kept glancing between Jacob and Charles, and then back to Jacob. "Why do I have to go and get the food? Why can't you send Charles?"

"Because I'm a boy," Charles stated proudly. "And knights don't do work, they have work done for them."

Helena wanted to wipe her younger brother's smirk off with her fist. "You're only six! You're not a knight!"

"DO AS I SAY, HELENA!" Jacob shouted, his voice reverberating off the cave walls.

Helena stared at her older brother, feeling the corners of her eyes grow moist with tears of betrayal. Why was he being so mean? She didn't understand him, and it hurt more than anything, since for the longest time, she had regarded him as her best friend.

With a heavy heart, she turned and left the cave, knowing that Jacob would hold true to his threat. He wouldn't let her stay if she didn't return with the items they wanted. And while she didn't want to be left out, she didn't like the idea of being reduced to their personal slave, either.

Helena had only taken a few steps outside of the cave, when she felt someone come up from behind her and grab a hold of her hand.

She whirled around, expecting to see either Jacob or Charles, thinking they had arrived to play some sort of joke on her, but was surprised to instead see…

"Sarah?"

"Sssh!" the little girl shushed, before pulling on Helena's hand. "This way…and don't tell the dragons!"

Helena looked more confused than ever, but mutely followed her baby sister up the slope and towards the castle. Sarah didn't loosen her grip, she continued tugging on Helena's hand, until they reached a large rock pile, just near the cliff, and only a few feet away from the castle wall. It was a popular look out point that the children used, before they escaped to their secret cave down below.

Helena opened her mouth to ask Sarah where her twin sister was, but gasped when she caught sight of Christine, emerging from the rocks.

"What is SHE doing here?" Helena snarled at her sister, before crying out as she felt herself being pushed down onto the ground. Sabrina had been hiding, and jumped out when Helena wasn't paying attention. The red-haired girl thrashed about, but both her sisters sat on top of her, holding her down as best they could.

"TRAITORS!" Helena shrieked. "JUST WAIT UNTIL JACOB FINDS OUT! HE'LL THRASH YOU GOOD!"

"Now why would we want to involve Jacob?" Christine asked, kneeling down in front of the girl.

Helena was fuming and she glared at the young woman before her. "When he finds out…"

"Will he care?" Christine asked, stunning Helena for a second. Little Sarah shook her head; she had been listening to the whole argument. "My spies suggest that he won't," Christine continued.

"YOUR SPIES?" Helena gasped, still trying to fight her sisters off.

"We're knights!" Sabrina stated proudly. "And you're dragons."

"WHAT?" Helena continued to struggle. "I am–get off me!–I am not a dragon!"

Christine studied the girl for a moment. "Perhaps not…" she murmured. "Perhaps you truly are a knight, and they simply want you to believe you're a dragon so that they can control you and make you their slave."

Helena's struggles stopped momentarily as she gazed up at Christine, her eyes filled with both confusion…and understanding.

"You see," Christine continued. "The twins and I are playing a game. We're the knights, and you're the dragons. We were the ones responsible for cutting off your food supply."

Helena gasped. "THAT WAS YOU?"

The twins grinned proudly. "We showed her the secret passage."

"And other secret entrances, too!"

"Exactly," Christine confirmed. "I know all of your hideouts, and all your trap doors."

Helena glared up at Christine, her own golden eyes burning with anger. "So why don't you just tell Papa and be done with it?"

Christine was taken aback by the child's words. "Tell your father?"

"Yes!" Helena grumbled, giving up her struggles. "Tell him where we're hiding, and have him force us to get this stupid apology over."

Christine studied the girl again, her own eyes filling with sadness as she could see the girl's pain. Sir Erik may not be aware of it, but his children were starving for attention! From hiding and missing for days at a time, to acting out and behaving horribly; they were all desperate attempts to gain his attention. Sadly, they just didn't know how deeply he did love them, as she had witnessed the night before.

"I'm not going to tell your father," Christine calmly murmured, noticing how Helena refused to look at her, so as not to show her tears. "And I'm not going to force you to apologize to me."

"GOOD!" Helena spat, swallowing the tears that threatened to fall. She turned her face away immediately, although Christine could catch the girl sniffling and mumbling under her breath. "No one wants me…Papa, Jacob–"

"We want you," Christine interrupted. All three girls turned to look at Christine with slightly wide eyes.

"But…I thought she was our prisoner?" Sarah whimpered.

Christine shook her head and made a motion with her hands for the twins to release Helena. Reluctantly, the two little girls climbed off their sister, and Helena quickly scrambled to her feet…but did not flee.

"You were never going to be our prisoner," Christine explained, her eyes never leaving the child's golden gaze. "In fact, we were rather hoping you would join our side."

Helena looked at Christine suspiciously, and then at the twins, then back at Christine once more. "Your side?"

Christine nodded her head, a warm smile starting to spread across her lips. "Aren't you tired of being treated like a servant? If you join us, I can promise you, you won't be ordered to do all the work, and you won't have to worry about eating," she grinned, remembering Helena's shriek when she opened the cabinet in the pantry.

The girl continued to eye Christine warily. She barely knew the woman, and wasn't sure she liked her, but unlike her brothers, Christine was at least being nice to her, even if she did command the twins to attack. And she seemed honest; there was something comforting and truthful about the way she smiled. And Helena was getting tired of being ordered about. But what would her brothers think once they found out? They would call her a traitor and never play with her again! Although…they were already not playing with her now…and they did tell her they wouldn't let her back in the cave if she didn't return with the food.

"You can be a knight Helena, like us!" Sarah grinned.

"And help us defeat the dragons," Sabrina added.

Helena slowly felt a smile creep up on her face. "We get to play pranks on the boys?" she asked, somewhat too excitedly.

Christine couldn't help but giggle. "Nothing cruel or nasty, just…a way to show them who rules this castle."

Helena's grin grew bigger and brighter. "Then I accept!"

* * *

The sun was setting, and Erik's temper was thinning with it.

He and his men had searched the castle grounds, as well as the areas around it, and still, no one had found any hide or hair of his children. It was as if the little monsters had disappeared into thin air!

It wasn't the first time his children had gone missing; in the past, his children had been known to disappear for hours…sometimes days, before turning up again. Then, Erik was never truly worried, he always knew they would come back, and he knew that Jacob was more than capable of taking care of his younger siblings.

But now…things were different.

Christine's words kept repeating over and over in his head, and they troubled him immensely. She had accused him of only practicing his fatherly skills when the children were asleep, and then when he attempted to apologize to her for his children's behavior, she had the gall to blame him!

…and deep down, he knew she was right.

He had spent so many years away from his children, fighting wars for the king, thwarting all different kinds of enemies, that when he was home at Winterbourne, he simply didn't know how to behave around the little imps! He could command armies, shout orders, and make his enemies quiver with fear; but he could not control his own children. He would shout an order; they would turn and ignore him. He would fix them a frightening stare; they would simply stare back. They had no respect for him, and Erik was at a complete loss. After two years of being home from battle, Erik could not take it any longer, he needed someone to step in and handle his children where he could not. And when the king sent him his summons about Pierre de Coleville's daughter, Erik saw the answer to his prayers. A mother; that was exactly what his children needed.

And what a mistake that had turned out to be.

Not only did his children terrorize his wife, but Erik also found himself at a loss when it came to his young bride. He couldn't stop thinking of Christine! He imagined her while he was awake, and he dreamt of her when he was asleep. He thought of her lips, how sweet she had tasted…he could only imagine how sweet the rest of her would taste. He remembered her softness when he had held her against him, and wondered how soft she would feel without her gown, stretched across his body in bed. But the part that fascinated him above all other things was her spirit. When he had first met her, she was extremely meek, mild, and submissive. Now…something was happening to his new bride, for she was standing up to him, speaking back to him when she disagreed, and showed no fear when he growled or glared at her. Erik was intrigued by his wife, to say the least, and for the first time in his life, he found himself…frightened, for he did not understand what exactly was happening to him.

A darker frown fell across Sir Erik's face. Like his children, Christine seemed to have disappeared as well. Horrible thoughts went through Erik's head as he imagined the atrocities his children were perhaps putting her through. Had they somehow captured her, were holding her hostage like some enemy of war, and torturing her with…who knows what?

Or worse?

Erik's frown turned into a furious glare as he remembered the words Christine shouted at him in the servant's quarters.

_"I highly doubt the law would view me as your wife since our marriage was never consummated!"_

She was speaking the truth, until their marriage was consummated, the law would not see the two of them as properly wed, and therefore could easily be annulled. The question now, was…had she been threatening him? Was she telling him that…she would leave?

A deep, ferocious growl, escaped Erik's throat at the thought. Christine was his, and there was nothing that would stop him from finding her, and keeping her with him.


	12. Knights and Dragons pt 3

**Summery: **The game concludes. Despite her happiness with gaining the trust of Helena and Charles, Christine cannot help but worry about Jacob. Meanwhile, the Black Knight hunts...for his bride!

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Knights and Dragons (pt. 3)_**

"I'm hungry! Where's Helena?"

Jacob groaned as he listened to his brother whine for the millionth time since their sister had gone to fetch more food for them. That had nearly been two hours ago, and it was beginning to get dark outside. Darkness also meant that the tide would be coming in, which would make it impossible to leave the cave without having to risk plunging into the ocean. Jacob wasn't afraid; he knew how to swim, unlike the rest of his brothers and sisters. It was the thought of being left alone for a whole night with Charles complaining that bothered him.

"It's getting dark…" Charles observed, his voice sounding shaky. "When will the tide come in?"

"Soon…" Jacob grumbled, picking up a stick that he often pretended was a sword, and began to sharpen its end.

"If the tide comes in, that means Helena won't be able to get back!"

Jacob simply nodded his head. The sweets they had consumed earlier hadn't been enough to really satisfy anyone's hunger.

"We'll starve!" Charles continued to complain. "And we'll be stuck here for the night!"

"Then maybe you should LEAVE!" Jacob roared, rounding on his brother, his eyes glowing with exasperation. He was tired of hearing the younger boy's complaints.

Charles' mouth fell open, and for a the briefest moment, his lip wobbled, but he immediately closed his mouth and sat down, his eyes locked to the ground as the growl of his stomach filled the entire cave.

Jacob continued to brood as he gazed out the cave entrance, his eyes locked on the crashing waves of the ocean as the tide slowly began to rumble it's way toward the beach. He had no idea where his sister was, but when he got his hands on her…

"J-j-j-jacob?"

The older boy groaned and turned to look at his brother. "What?"

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat and met his brother's eyes. "How…how long a-are you g-going to stay…in here?"

Jacob didn't say anything; he simply turned his gaze back to the ocean. The truth of the matter was…he didn't know how long he was going to stay in the cave! He hadn't thought that far ahead. In the past, when things weren't going the way he wanted them to…or if he wanted to prove a point to his father, he would disappear to what he and his siblings called "the pirate's cave", and hide there for a day or two. It wasn't uncommon for Jacob to spend at least one night in the cave, often by himself, sometimes with the others, but he had never spent more than one night there. Now, he truly was contemplating of spending his whole life in that cave. Who would care? His father certainly didn't…

"Jacob?"

He growled and turned an icy glare to Charles' trembling face. "If you don't stop asking questions, I'll throw you out into the ocean waters myself!"

Charles clamped a hand over his mouth and quickly retreated back to a corner of the cave, where he sat and hugged his knees against his little body. This wasn't fun anymore; the cave was getting colder and darker, his stomach was growling, and he really didn't like the idea of being stuck in that place for the night. Jacob had done it in the past, and Charles wanted to prove to his older brother that he was brave enough to stay…but at the same time, the temptation of hot venison being served for dinner, and the soft warmth of his feather bed, seemed far more inviting. Perhaps that was what Helena had done? Perhaps she had chosen to stay away? Oh how he envied her…

"Charles!" Jacob hissed. "Do you…do you hear that?"

The smaller boy lifted his head and held his breath as he listened to the sounds of footsteps…and horses hooves, coming from outside the cave.

"You don't think they're down by the beach, do ye?" a large burly man muttered.

"Nay, far too afraid of the tide, the little whelps," muttered another man.

Jacob frowned as he listened to the two men-at-arms. It wasn't a great mystery as to whom they were talking about.

"I'm sick of this," the first man grumbled. "His lordship has us all armor up, as if going to war, and then tells us we're hunting for his no good wretched imps!"

"Aye," muttered the other man. "Good riddance if ye ask me."

"There are more important things to be doing right now!"

"Like what? The war is over."

"There's always some battle to fight," the burly man grumbled again. "I think the master is simply desperate for action. He's been locked away in this castle for too long with those little demons. That's why he married the lady; have her take care of his pups so he can leave this place and satisfy his own thirst and craving for battle and blood."

"Aye," the burly man's companion agreed. "I confess I feel sorry for him; a man like him was never meant for domestic life, or to be trapped with five hellish brats."

The other man grunted in agreement, before the sound of their horses drifted away. Inside, both Charles and Jacob stood completely still, neither speaking, neither breathing, as they assessed everything that they had heard.

"I knew it…" Jacob growled deep and low, his hands tightening into fists of rage. "I knew that was why he married her."

Charles looked as if he were about to cry. "Do…do you think Father r-r-really hates us?"

"OH WHO GIVES A DAMN!" Jacob roared, rounding on his brother once more. "I DON'T CARE WHAT HE THINKS! I HATE HIM! AND I HOPE THAT THE NEXT TIME HE GOES OFF TO BATTLE, SOMEONE WILL RUN HIM THROUGH!"

Charles pressed himself against the cave's wall, trembling as his brother shouted and roared, mimicking their own father in many ways. Another sound was quickly heard outside the cave, only it was much lighter and softer. Just as suddenly as the sound had appeared, so did the person who was making it, as Helena skipped her way inside the cave.

"About damn time!" Jacob growled at his sister, not caring that she was out of breath, only caring about the burlap sack that she held in one hand. "Where have you been?" he demanded, snatching the sack from her hands.

Helena had been dashing from one rock to another, in attempts to avoid being seen by Sir Erik's men-at-arms. They were all over the castle grounds, scouring the land, searching and grumbling wherever they went. She glared at her brother as he took the bag from her hands, folding her arms across her chest, waiting for at least a simple "thank you" for retrieving the goods he had sent her to get.

"Papa's men are everywhere," Helena informed, watching her brothers with disgust as they greedily attempted to untie the thick ropes that kept the bag closed. "He's probably very angry."

Charles paused his untying and stared at his sister with wide, frightened eyes. "R-r-really?"

"Who cares," Jacob grumbled, his brow contorting with frustration as he continued to untie the sack.

Helena kept her eyes on the sack and quickly bit her lip, trying very hard not to give anything away. "How long are we going to live like this Jacob? We can't survive on scraps alone."

Jacob glanced up at his sister and glared at her. "Well I'm not asking you to stay, now am I? You don't like it? Then go back to the castle and let our father throw you in the stocks!" he let out a curse as his fingers fumbled with the knots. "Why did you tie this thing so damn tight?"

Helena lifted her chin, her eyes glaring right back at her brother. "What are you going to do when I'm gone, Jacob? Are you going to order Charles everywhere?"

Charles stared at his brother with wide-eyed horror. The thought of Helena leaving them for good had never truly passed his mind. He always assumed she would want to stay, to prove herself to her older brother. But now, it seemed as though she were threatening to leave…

Jacob hadn't missed Helena's tone either. He was a little surprised as well by her threat. Would she truly leave on her own free will?

"I thought you were strong," he spat in attempts to rile her.

"I am strong!" Helena spat back. "But I'm not crazy!"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "You want to leave? Then leave. We don't need you, you hold us back anyway."

Prior to when Helena had spoken with Christine and the twins, this would have bothered her. But instead of allowing Jacob's words to stab at her heart, she simply brushed them aside and gave a confident smile to her brother.

"I'm not a slave that you can order about!" she snapped. "I'm your sister, and you need me, you know you do. For one, Charles isn't competent enough to do half the things you order me to do," she shot a fierce gaze to her younger brother, who shrank both from her look, and from her words. "Not to mention, I know many secrets that are going on right now. I'm a vital spy for you Jacob; I know what's going on in the castle and on the grounds. I know what's going on with father—"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!" Jacob roared, irritated that he still couldn't loosen the knots around the burlap sack that his sister had brought back. "I DON'T NEED YOU! I DON'T NEED ANY OF YOU! LEAVE THEN! I DON'T CARE!" he looked over at Charles, whose lip was wobbling slightly. "And take him with you!"

Charles' face paled. "B-b-b-but Jacob! I…I w-want to stay—"

"Well I don't want you to stay!" Jacob barked at his younger brother, his golden eyes glowing with anger and frustration. Things were not going the way he had wanted them to go.

Helena squared her shoulders, ignoring Charles blubbering that was now beginning to fill the cavern. "What are you going to do, stay down here by yourself? For how long? It's stupid Jacob! What will you live on? Dried meat and berries?"

Jacob ignored her and took the dagger that he always carried around his belt, like a sword, and began to cut at the tight knots on the sack.

Helena groaned, knowing how stubborn her brother could get. He was determined to be pig-headed. "Come on Charles," she grumbled, looking over at the other boy. "Let's go back to the castle. I overheard the kitchen maids talking about roast mutton," she licked her lips at the thought.

Charles was torn. His stomach growled at the thought of hot food, but he didn't want to show weakness to his brother. If he left with Helena, Jacob would never speak to him again! But the cave frightened him; it was cold and dank, it smelled strange, and the shadows that surrounded them cast eerie shapes on the walls. Plus, his brother had all but begged for Helena to take him! Was Jacob simply testing him, to see where Charles' loyalties lay? Or was he in earnest? Did he truly want to be rid of him? And then there was the point Helena had made; would he become Jacob's slave if she left?

"Trust me Charles," Helena hissed into her younger brother's ear. "You don't want to stay here. Come back with me; tonight we'll eat roast mutton with boiled potatoes and carrots, and sleep in warm, dry, feather beds, with toasty fires burning—"

"He'll whip you good," Jacob grumbled, finally cutting through one of the knots. "You know he will," he growled, catching his brother's eye. "He'll beat you to an inch of your life!"

Charles paled once more, but Helena was quick to respond. "No he won't! She won't let him!"

Both boys stared at her, shocked by her words. Even Helena seemed surprised, for she quickly covered her mouth.

"I should have known," Jacob muttered, going back to cutting the knots. "I bet she simply had to say something about your hair, and you were sold. Well now I definitely don't want you here, traitor!"

Helena squared her shoulders, her own golden eyes glaring back at her brother. "She doesn't want Papa to make us apologize!"

"Good!" Jacob snapped. "Because I will never apologize to her!"

"I don't think she's as bad as we—"

"GET OUT!" Jacob roared, turning on his siblings. "BOTH OF YOU! GO BACK TO THE CASTLE, TO YOUR HOT FOOD AND WARM BEDS! GO BACK AND 'APOLOGIZE' TO HER, BEFORE FATHER BEATS YOU! I DON'T NEED EITHER OF YOU AND I DON'T WANT EITHER OF YOU! GET OUT!"

Charles was crying into his hands, realizing that this was not a test, Jacob truly did not want him there. Helena eyed her older brother carefully and sighed. She had done what Christine had asked, but she knew prior to coming in here, that it wouldn't work, at least not with Jacob.

"Come on Charles," she muttered, grabbing her younger brother's hand. "We have to leave now if we want to avoid the tide." Charles stopped his crying at his sister's words, and quickly followed her out of the cave.

Jacob watched in stunned amazement as his brother and sister abandoned him there. "YOU CAN NEVER COME BACK!" he shouted to their retreating figures. "I'LL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU FROM THIS DAY ON! YOU'RE BOTH DEAD TO ME!"

He paused and waited to see if Charles would come crying back, begging that he could stay, or at least to hear some snippy comment by Helena, but there was nothing. They both had gone.

Jacob felt something warm and wet drip down his cheek, and he quickly reached up to wipe it away. "I don't need either of them," he muttered once more to himself. "I'm better off on my own anyway."

Outside the cave, Charles stared at the ocean tide, which had practically washed over the entire beach, save for a few rocks that led to the footpath both he and Helena would take back to the castle. Charles shivered as the memory of Jacob's words, wondering if he would ever see his brother again. He also shivered with fear at the thought that their father would beat them once they returned.

"It's alright, Charles," Helena reassured, squeezing his hand. "Everything will be alright."

Charles numbly nodded his head and turned to go towards the footpath, when Helena held him fast. "Wait!" she hissed, her head leaning towards the cave. She was holding her breath, waiting for the sound that she knew would come at any second…

"AHHH! OUCH! GET OFF ME! HELENA! AHHH!"

Helena burst into fit of giggles, before dragging her confused brother up the cliff. "W-w-what was that?"

"I think Jacob finally opened the sack," she laughed.

Charles' eyes went wide. That could have happened to him had he stayed! "It wasn't filled with food?"

Helena laughed again and shook her head. "Not unless you know how to cook crab."

Charles gasped. "Live crab?"

Helena nodded her head. "Oh yes, and very irritated crabs at that; the kind with the tiny pinchers that latch on to anything! That will teach Jacob next time he treats me like a slave!"

* * *

The loud banging on the large oak doors disrupted the evening vespers at the small abbey, and it was the Mother Superior who had the unlucky task of answering.

"Yes?" she murmured to the figure clothed in shadows, trying to sound calm and not irritated from the disruption.

The figure did not wait for an invitation, but pushed his way inside, causing several of the other nuns to gasp as they took in his great height and broad body, covered from head to toe in black armor.

The Mother Superior swallowed the lump in her throat, not bothering to look at the crest that was molded into the sword's hilt. She knew it was the Black Knight…

"C-can w-we be of service, my lord?"

Erik pushed back the hood of his cloak, ignoring the frightened gasps that went up from the nuns who were watching, and eyed each face with a ferocious gaze, seeking out one face in particular…

"My lord?" the Mother Superior asked again, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Did a young woman arrive here today?" Sir Erik growled, his eyes remaining on the group of nuns who were trembling in one massive huddle.

Mother Superior swallowed the lump in her throat in an attempt to gather her courage. "My lord, we are a house of God and a sanctuary for the lost. If a woman comes to our doors seeking shelter, I must not betray her trust—"

"SHE'S MY WIFE!" Sir Erik roared, rounding on the Mother Superior, his eyes aflame with anger. Several of the nuns screamed at his reaction, while one fainted with fright. Mother Superior had to reach out to the wall behind her to keep her balance from the Black Knight's roar.

"M-my lord, w-w-we have but one arrival today…a-a-allow me to fetch her, please…I'm s-sure once I explain the situation—"

Erik could not control his patience any longer, but pushed his way past the Mother Superior, ignoring her outcries, and through the throng of nuns who had been watching him. They parted like the waters of the Red Sea to let him through.

He stormed down the hallways of the abbey, bellowing Christine's name at the top of his lungs, pushing and kicking at random doors, causing several more nuns to scream, but none of them possessed the face he was seeking.

This was the most likely place Christine would go! Surely she would not return to Baron de Coleville's wretched castle! This abbey was the closest one for miles, surely Christine was smarter than taking her chances on the road! There were thieves and rogues out on the road, and no village for over thirty miles. All the farmers that lived near Winterbourne were his tenants, and would never dream of hiding his young bride for fear of his wrath! Therefore, the only explanation left was the abbey…but where was Christine?

"My lord!" the Mother Superior had finally managed to catch up with him. "Please! There is no need for this! I will fetch the girl!"

"CHRISTINE!" Erik continued his hunt, his anger only kindling with each step. He was determined to turn this place inside out if it meant finding his wife.

Mother Superior groaned and snapped her fingers towards some other nuns, who quickly rushed down the hall in the opposite direction of the imposing Black Knight. The older woman took a deep breath, prepared to make one last go at calming Sir Erik and restoring order to the abbey.

"My lord, several sisters have gone to retrieve our newest charge, and you shall see for yourself—"

"I want to check every storeroom and every cupboard this place has!" he growled. "I know she's here."

Mother Superior sighed. "My lord, I do not know this woman that you speak up, but I can assure you, we've only had one new arrival, and we do not go about hiding girls of any age in cupboards or storerooms!" she fixed his back with a hard look. "However, I am beginning to see why your bride ran away."

Erik froze in his steps and turned to fix a cold dark stare on the older nun. However, they were interrupted when the two nuns that Mother Superior had sent to find the young woman, had returned, with a young and frightened postulate in tow.

Sir Erik pushed past the Mother Superior once more, and reached the trembling postulate in two strides. His heart sank, however, when he realized that the girl was not Christine, although she looked to be about Christine's age.

"Is this your wife, my lord?" Mother Superior asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nay," Erik growled, turning his back on the trembling girl and facing the older nun once more. "But I know she's here!"

"There is no such person!" Mother Superior argued. "I would not willingly go out of my way to upset you, my lord, nor would anyone in this abbey. But the lady you seek is not here!"

Erik was not convinced, but a part him felt deep shame for causing these women distress. He had a reputation for being a monster, but that reputation he liked to keep on the battlefield—not at an abbey.

He did not say anything further; he simply turned on his heel and left the place, muttering a quick apology as the door shut behind him. Erik had come alone, too ashamed to tell anyone that he was going to an abbey due to his suspicions that his wife had run away. He was the fearsome Black Knight! No one dared to run away from him!

…except his hellish children. And now, it seemed, his wife. He prayed his enemies would never learn of this weakness.

He mounted his black steed and quickly laid his heels into the horse's flanks, turning the animal south, towards the village of Valmour. It would be a good thirty-mile ride, but he could not think of any other place she may have gone! Christine was many things, but she was not so foolish as to risk her life on an abandoned road. Although she was most foolish to threaten him and run away. He surely thought she would have been at the abbey! Perhaps she knew that would be the first place he would look and had bypassed the abbey on purpose to go directly to Valmour? He threw a curse up to the night sky as the sound of thunder rattled the heavens. He only prayed his men were having better luck at finding his children…

* * *

"You should have heard him! He was howling like a baby!" Helena giggled, falling back on her bed, her face red from laughing.

Christine smiled faintly as Helena once more retold the story of Jacob opening the sack only to find the nasty pincher crabs. The girl had told it three times already, but the other children didn't seem to be tired of it. Even Charles, who had been the most reluctant to talk all evening, was now giggling with merriment.

Once Helena and Charles returned to the castle, the redheaded girl led her brother to their bedchamber, where their victory feast was waiting for them. Sarah and Sabrina were already there, giggling and cheering when they saw that Helena had returned with a prisoner. However, Christine had been quick to remind the twins that Charles was not their prisoner, but now, an ally to the knights.

Charles stared wide-eyed at Christine when she entered the chamber. Was this woman, who was laughing along with his sisters, the same person he and his siblings had tortured only a day ago? Shouldn't she be furious? Grabbing them by their arms and spanking them until they cried? Where was his father? He kept glancing at the door nervously, biting his lip, waiting for it to burst open, and hear the dreaded roar of the vicious Black Knight.

Christine quickly noticed Charles' nervousness, and reached out to take his hand in hers. "'Tis all right Charles," she murmured, her voice both soothing and truthful. "You are safe here."

He eyed her suspiciously throughout their meal, to which Christine expected. However, little by little, she was pleased to see him relax more and more, especially as he gobbled down two helpings of roast mutton and vegetables.

Anne would stop by every now and then to see if they needed anything. The old woman smiled in amazement at Christine; she still couldn't believe the remarkable transformation the children had taken from demons to angels!

Christine was delighted by the change as well. Earning their trust was the only way to earn their respect, and hopefully, she prayed, their friendship too.

Laughter filled the children's bedchamber as Helena and Charles told the twins of Jacob's ill temper, and how they each recalled the pranks that had been played throughout the day. Christine shared in their laughter, however hers was not as hearty.

The wind made a howling sound just outside the window. Another storm was brewing; she could sense it in the air. And Jacob—stubborn, pigheaded Jacob, was still out in it. Christine wrapped her shawl around her shoulders as she listened to another howl, wondering if the boy was warm, if he was safe. The children reassured her several times that while the tide covered the whole beach it never entered the cave. But their words brought her little comfort, especially as the sound of rain began to beat against the windowpane.

"I wonder where Papa is?" Charles murmured in a slightly shaky voice. Even though he had relaxed more in Christine's presence, he continued to glance nervously, every now and then, towards the chamber door.

Helena shrugged her shoulders, taking a bite of apple from their small table. "Does it matter?"

Charles glanced at his sister warily. "He did send his soldiers out looking for us…"

Sarah and Sabrina's eyes went wide. "Papa sent an army?" they gasped in unison.

Helena scoffed at their words. "Hardly. He sent a few of his men out looking for us, that's all. He's probably busy on some errand for the king anyway, so don't worry about it."

Christine studied the children for a moment. It was obvious that despite the brave demeanor the children wore in the presence of their father, they still shared a little unease towards the Black Knight, at least the younger ones did. No doubt with Jacob by their side, the children felt braver and more able to stand up to their father, especially young Charles, who Christine could tell, depended on his older brother, and felt quite hurt that Jacob had turned him away. Helena was very similar to her older brother; however Christine could tell that the apathy in which the redheaded girl spoke was simply a way to cover the pain she felt. And the twins…it was obvious from the way they responded that they were seeking hope; hope for a sign of affection and love.

If only they had been awake the other night. If only Sir Erik could show them that love during waking hours!

These children truly did need a mother, but not for the reasons that Sir Erik had intended. He wanted a figure to discipline them because he couldn't be bothered. Someone to keep them out of trouble, someone to keep them in line. But what they needed was attention, understanding, and proof that someone did indeed care for them. Well, if Sir Erik couldn't be bothered to show these emotions, she would!

Lightning lit up the night sky and a loud crash of thunder shook the castle's ancient stones. The twins gave a cry from the noise, and suddenly dashed over to Christine's side, burying their blonde heads against her skirts. "Hush now, it's alright," Christine soothed, running her fingers through their soft curls.

"It's only a storm," Charles grumbled, trying to sound brave when it was obvious he too shared the twins' fear. Even Helena, brave and fiery Helena, seemed somewhat shaken by the thunder's loud blasts.

Christine smiled at the two older children, and gathered the twins up in her arms, before settling herself down on one of the small beds. "Do you remember that song I told you about the other day?"

Both Charles and Helena's faces lit up at Christine's words. "You mean the one about the fairy princess who had long red hair like mine?" Helena gasped, before settling herself at the foot of the bed.

"Who cares about that!" Charles argued, nudging his way onto the bed. "You said there were dragons!"

Christine grinned at the excitement she could see in all the young faces before her. "That's right, there are dragons and a fairy princess, and knights, and treasure!" They were all hooked; the storm was long forgotten.

"Please sing it to us?" Sarah pleaded, snuggling herself close to Christine.

Christine smiled down at the child and closed her eyes for a moment, while all the children leaned in, holding their breath, awaiting the epic song she had described. And then, as if by magic, a sweet sound filled the room.

* * *

Erik returned to the castle at an extremely late hour. The village of Valmour had been a complete waste of his time. Those that did open their doors to his pounding claimed to have never seen such a woman, or least that was what Erik could make out, in the midst of their frightened blubbering. With weary resolve, he turned back towards Winterbourne, both he and his horse soaked to the bone. All the servants were asleep, which was just as well, Erik thought to himself. The last thing he wanted anyone to see was he, making a complete ass of himself.

He had charged off, determined to find his wayward wife and bring her home, thus teaching a lesson to everyone, do not cross the Black Knight! But instead, he returned empty handed; just as another sign that Black Knight, despite his legend on the battlefield, was a buffoon when it came to managing a household.

Erik made sure his horse received plenty of oats and dry hay, and threw a large blanket over the poor creature to keep out the chill of the storm-filled night. He trudged back to the castle, desperate to get out of his soaking armor and to drown his misery in a hot pint of spiced mead.

He didn't bother to wait till he reached his chamber. There, in the great hall, he stripped off his armor until he was down to his tunic and breeches, and marched in the direction of the wine cellar to retrieve his drink.

However…something caught his ear.

A bird?

Nay, twas' no bird he had ever heard before.

Changing his direction, he followed the sound as it floated along the corridors of Winterbourne. It was a soft, clear sound. The tone was like a bell, and yet he could hear the slightest velvety vibrations beneath it. Someone was singing…but whom? He had never heard anything like this before, anything so…beautiful.

"And still, she climbs the hill that overlooks the sea…hoping, praying, wishing, 'my love, return to me…'"

It was fading. Whoever was singing, their voice was beginning to fade. Erik quickened his step, desperate to learn who this mysterious siren was, to see what ghost had invaded his home to cast her silken spell over his senses…

He stopped short when he reached the hall that led to the bedchambers of his children. The song was over, only to be replaced by soft, faint, humming. With the softest of steps, the mighty Black Knight approached the door where he heard the humming, the faintest glow of a candle illuminating the doorway. His hand touched the wood, and slowly, gently, he pushed it open ever so slightly, and peered his golden gaze inside.

His breath caught in his throat.

Helena and Charles lay snuggled together at the foot of a bed, while Sarah and Sabrina slept soundly, nuzzled against the body of the mysterious siren, whose voice fainted away as sleep finally took hold of her, her head sagging to one shoulder.

Christine, his bride, his young wife, and the lady of Winterbourne…had indeed kept her vows.

She had not disappeared into the countryside, she had not run away as he had feared; she had been there this whole time, with the very children he had ordered his men to find. The most obvious of all places was the one Erik had failed to look.

A part of him wanted to stay, to take in the sight of girl who had so quickly been thrust into this matron's role, to watch her as she slept, with what appeared to be dear angels wrapped within her arms and by her feet. And a part of him longed to go and join their serene sanctuary, to find peace with these angels.

But he dared not interfere. He was a warrior, a devil, he had no right to intrude on such innocence, especially after the sins he had recently committed.

He turned and left the vision that held such hope for him. He knew the truth; the hope she offered could never be his. The only truth he understood was that he was a fool…a fool for ever believing that a monster like himself, could find happiness.


	13. Raging Tempest

**Summery:** A fierce storm errupts, and Christine and Sir Erik must work together in order to save Jacob who remains trapped inside a cave...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Raging Tempest**_

_She didn't hear him enter…he was like a great cat, stalking its prey…slow, quiet, and deadly._

_She lay slumbering peacefully on the soft mattress, surrounded by thick warm blankets, in a room that neither leaked rain nor let in the chill from the outside wind. For the first time in her life, she truly felt as if she could relax and enjoy the peace of this small sanctuary…_

_But she was wrong._

_She should have known something wasn't right when the strange foreign smell hit her nostrils._

_Foreign…and yet oddly familiar._

_It invaded her senses, causing her to awake from her peaceful slumber with a look of disgust, but before she could even begin to search for where this smell was coming from, she felt a large cold hand cover her mouth, and a strong menacing force hold her body down._

_"Well, well, well…look at the pretty princess…"_

_Christine tried to struggle, she tried to force the weight of her oppressor off her, but it felt as if she were tied down. Her arms, her legs…nothing seemed to work!_

_"Look at you, sleeping here as if you you've always belonged to this world…" the dark voice snarled into her ear._

_Christine felt a shiver of revulsion cut through her body as an oily tongue flicked across her earlobe. She wanted to scream, but his hand was bruising her mouth with such a horrid force. Who was this monster? His voice sounded terribly familiar…_

_"I know what you are," he hissed in her ear. "And no matter how many soft beds you sleep on…or how many beautiful gowns you wear…nothing will change."_

_Christine squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the stinging heat of tears. She continued to thrash violently, yet his strength was too much. She could only think of one man who had such strength as this…_

_"You're plain…you're poor…and no one will ever love you…" the voice snarled, his words cutting deeper than any knife…and his fingers crawling up her thigh like an insect._

_"You're a servant, and always will be…and you're only good for one thing, my sweet," he growled, before his fingers gripped the edge of her gown. "And as your lord and master…I demand…that you…serve…ME!"_

Christine gasped loudly as she sat straight up, her hands immediately flying to her dress, relieved to realize that it had only been a nightmare, and that her clothes remained intact. She let out a long shuttering breath, before collapsing once more against her pillow, her hands resting over her heart in hopes to calm its beating.

Never…never had she experienced anything more frightening.

Silent tears softly rolled down her cheeks as she recalled the horrible events of her dream. She wanted to block it out entirely, but she was afraid that should she close her eyes, whoever her attacker was, would return and perhaps succeed with what he was trying to do.

A sleepy moan alerted Christine to look down at her feet, and there, at the foot of the bed, lay both Helena and Charles, curled up together, and lost in a deep sleep. Christine's eyes adjusted to the darkness around her and she soon realized where she was. On either side of her were Sarah and Sabrina, who at some point in the night, had rolled away from her just slightly. It appeared that all the children were deep sleepers, a mercy for which she was deeply grateful; no doubt she would have scared them half to death had they been awake.

Outside, another loud crash of thunder shook the earth, followed by a long flash of lightning. Christine's thoughts changed to those of the children, and she quickly glanced at them, happy to see that they continued to sleep soundly and peacefully despite the storm that raged outside. However, that happiness quickly disappeared as her thoughts flew to Jacob, who, as far as she was aware, was still trapped in that cave.

The other children had tried to reassure her that Jacob was no stranger to that cave, that he knew it like the back of his hand, and he knew how to look after himself. And she had no doubt that he could take care of himself…but even the strongest warrior needed help now and then.

Outside, the wind released a high-pitched shriek, and she listened with growing uneasiness as the rain violently beat the window pane. The children had reassured her more than once that night that the tide never reached the edge of the cave; however, none of them had ever slept in it during a powerful storm like this. What if the waves were crashing against the cliff? The cave would surely flood!

No. Christine refused to allow such fears to invade her thoughts; surely if such a danger were occurring, Jacob would retreat. Wouldn't he?

Perhaps the cave had not flooded, but what if he were freezing in there? From what Helena had told her, they didn't have much in the way of blankets. What if Jacob became ill for lack of dryness and warmth? Oh God; Sir Erik may not think too highly of his son, but the boy was his heir! If anything happened to the child, he would quite rightly blame her! They were hers to look after…

Christine groaned inwardly and sat up, her gaze fixed on the window. She couldn't lie there and try to pretend that everything was alright! She had no idea how she was going to do it…but somehow, she had to get inside that cave and bring that boy back to the castle!

Another groan rose up from her throat, this one escaping her lips. She knew how deeply Jacob detested her; if he were awake, no doubt he would fight her with everything he had. She may have to clobber him over the head and drag him all the way back…that is, if she could get into the cave in the first place. Oh it didn't matter! Christine was determined—she was going to see that the boy returned to a place that was warm, dry, and safe!

Of course the task would go much smoother if he came willingly, yet Jacob was too much like his father, from what she observed, which meant it would be anything but smooth.

Feeling resolved in her decision, Christine carefully, and quietly, removed herself from the bed, and tucked several blankets around the remaining slumbering children. Then, with the softest of movements, she crept out of the chamber and shut the door, before dashing down the hallways towards the castle entrance.

She gasped at the sight that greeted her as she stood in the doorway: it was as if Noah's flood had come to Winterbourne!

Small waterfalls rolled off the castle roof, creating giant puddles throughout the courtyard, puddles that seemed to be forming a small inland sea! The ground had become one giant mud hole, and Christine knew her slippers would be no match for it. Without a second's thought, she quickly removed the slippers, knowing she had a better chance at forging her way to the cliffs in her bare feet than getting herself stuck on the way.

"Oh Lord, give me strength," she whispered, before taking a deep breath, and descending into the storm-filled night.

* * *

It was creeping in…

Jacob stared with wide, horrified eyes, as the ocean's waves violently beat against the cliffs, causing the salty brine to splash inside the cave. The thunder awoke him earlier, but he simply turned on his other side to ignore it, wrapping the flimsy fabric that was meant to be his blanket even tighter around his shivering form. Somehow, he had managed to fall back asleep, only to be awoken later by a harsh cold splash of water that felt like a vicious slap across the face.

Jacob flew to his feet and gasped at the swirling waters just outside the cave's entrance. He had never seen the ocean churn in such a brutal way before! The storm that had passed the other night had been nothing like this one! Jacob had always prided himself on teaching himself how to swim, and that night he felt confident that should it ever come to it, he could take his chances with the ocean's fierce waters and live to tell the tale.

But that confidence did not exist now. Now, he knew that no matter how hard he kicked his feet, no amount of swimming would save him. The waves would smash his body against the cliff and that would be the end of Jacob von Desslar.

Jacob continued to back away as the water continued to creep in. While he was glad that his brother and sisters were not there to face the same horrors, he yearned for their companionship, which had always given him courage. It was just as well that they weren't there; he always refused to let them see him cry.

* * *

Christine let out a curse as she continued trudging through the thick mud that seemed to have littered the landscape around Winterbourne. The rain was relentless, pounding hard against her body, soaking her to the bone, and the wind was even worse. It blew great cold gusts off the ocean's waters, spraying a combination of salty brine and bitter rain into her eyes, making it impossible to see anything. Her only saving grace was when the lightning illuminated the sky, giving her a brief glimpse of the cliffs she was blindly stumbling towards.

Just ten more steps and she would be at the cliff's edge. Eight more steps…five more steps…three…

Christine didn't even make it to the edge before a ferocious wave slapped against the cliff, causing her to stumble backwards and land on her backside. "God almighty!" she gasped, wiping the rain and mud from her face, before attempting to stand up…which was proving to be quite difficult.

The damn gown that she still wore, now heavily caked with a thick layer of mud, was holding her down…and should she find herself in the sea's unforgiving waters, the once fine garment would cause her to sink like a stone. No, the thing had to come off…which would mean she would only be left in her thin white shift. "I might as well be naked," she muttered.

However, Christine's brief concern on whether she should remove the gown or not disappeared as a sudden cry for help echoed off the howling wind. "Jacob…" she murmured, recognizing his voice and identifying with the fear it held. She didn't hesitate another second, she began to claw at the gown, pushing it and forcing its mud-soaked fabric down from her body. She had to get down there, she had to get into that cave and somehow help Jacob out!

Finally succeeding with removing her dress, Christine quickly made her way towards the footpath that led down to the beach just below the cliff. "Oh Lord in heaven," she whispered as she took in the sight of the ocean's choppy waters and the monstrous waves that repeatedly crashed against the cliff. One flash of lightning provided Christine with a brief glimpse of the cave itself, and she choked back a gasp as she saw the way the sea was beginning to flood inside. Another cry for help filled the night air, and this time Christine could hear Jacob's tears choke his voice.

Robert had once taught her how to swim. When Christine came to the de Coleville's, there had been a pond just east of the castle. She remembered how she, Robert, and Meg, as children, would go and play in the pond's cooling waters on hot summer days after they had finished their chores. But she stopped going when Philippe spied on her once, and made lewd comments about her body, even though she had been wearing her shift the whole time. That had been years ago…and the water was nothing like this! Did she even remember how to swim?

Another one of Jacob's cries filled her ears, and Christine knew she was wasting time with her worries. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, uttering up a prayer for strength and guidance, before digging her toes into the cliff's muddy edge, leaning forwards—

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Christine didn't have the opportunity to scream, or gasp…the wind had been completely knocked out of her as she felt a force even stronger than the storm, grasp her by the waist and hurl her away from the edge of the cliff.

She expected to feel the cold muddy ground once more, but instead, she found her body being pressed against something solid…and muscular. Wiping her soaked curls away from her eyes, Christine looked up to see what force had stopped her from jumping, and gasped as her eyes met the fierce golden gaze of her masked husband.

"ANSWER ME, CHRISTINE?" he roared, shaking her shoulders, demanding an answer.

Christine stared wide-eyed up at him, shaken and amazed that he was there. He must have followed her, how else would he have known? It was incredible that a man of his size and strength could easily sneak up on her; how long had he been following her? Since she left the castle? Since she left the children's chamber?

"CHRISTINE—"

"JACOB!" she blurted, finally coming out of her shock. Jacob was all that mattered right now…

Erik's harsh face fell the moment his son's name escaped Christine's lips. Ever since he had returned to the castle he knew something was wrong…and after he had looked in on Christine and the children, he immediately took notice that Jacob was missing.

"Where?" he demanded, his eyes leaving her face and looking down at the ocean's deadly waters. Oh God, please…

"Over there," Christine pointed to where the cave lay. Erik narrowed his eyes and felt a fierce growl rise up in his throat as the lightning revealed the outline of the prison that held his son. That growl escaped his lips as another one of Jacob's cries filled the air. Without another thought, Erik threw his tunic over his head, and before Christine could even gasp his name, he dove into the violent waters below the cliffs.

"ERIK!" she shouted, her eyes searching the waters below, desperate to see what had happened to the Black Knight. Was he all right? Had he hit any of the rocks below? Was he a strong swimmer? She grasped the tunic that he had left and hugged it tightly to her body, pleading with the heavens that he was alive.

The waves were brutal, and the wind was relentless; over and over it continued to pound the ocean's waters against the cliffs, and with each blast, Christine's fear grew. She couldn't see him! It was as if the ocean had swallowed him up! "ERIK!" she shouted once more, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the tunic. "ERIK!"

The dark and swirling surface broke, and Sir Erik's head burst forth, taking in a great gasp of air. Thank God for his mask, Christine thought, as relief and joy flooded her being. Had it not been for the white color, she would never have seen him.

Erik wasted no time; his long muscular arms pulled him through the choppy waters, while his powerful legs kicked his body forward in the direction of Jacob's cave. Overhead, Christine watched with fascination and apprehension as her husband swam the dangerous waters, holding back her screams each time another wave threatened to overtake him. It was clear that her husband, amongst other things, was also an expert swimmer. Christine felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she stared at the powerful muscles of his arms and legs that guided him through the waters. When the waves came, he dove down, causing Christine to cover her mouth and hold her breath, until he resurfaced some distance later. Whatever had caused him to follow her that night, she was glad for it; she knew now that had she risked her neck in those waters, she…and Jacob, would have perished.

Erik was getting closer and closer towards the cave. Christine began to move down the cliff, desperately trying to not lose sight of him. "You're father is coming Jacob!" she shouted, but the storm drowned out her cries.

Finally, Erik reached the edge of the cave, and this time, when a wave came, he did not dive down, but allowed the swell to carry him up to the cave, and wash him inside. "Jacob!" he coughed, spitting water out of his throat. "Jacob!"

The cave was halfway flooded. Erik attempted to stand, but found the act next to impossible; his muscles were so tired. He crawled forward, coughing as another wave sent more salt water into the cave. However, when the water recessed, it attempted to take whatever was in the cave…out to sea with it! Erik gripped a nearby rock and held to it tightly, watching in horror as bowls, toys, and what looked to be a boy's tunic, were washed back. Good God, what if the waters…?

"JACOB!" he shouted again, his roar causing the small cavern to shake. "JACOB, ANSWER ME!"

"P-p-papa?"

The voice was weak, but he heard it clearly. "JACOB!" he shouted again, finding the strength to stand and run in the direction he heard the voice. The cave was pitch black, and Erik narrowed his eyes, hoping to catch some sort of movement. Lightning flared across the sky, and just briefly, its light filled the cave, and Erik caught sight of two small hands, clinging to a large boulder, and a child's face, buried against the rock, his whole body shivering. "Jacob…" Erik gasped, and the boy's head flew up, his eyes wide as they met those of his father's.

"P-papa?" the boy murmured, his face as white as Sir Erik's mask. Lightning lit the cave again, and Erik could see the tears that his son had been shedding, as well as the fear that lit the child's eyes. A stab of pain shot through Erik's heart; Jacob's fear had nothing to do with the storm…

"It's alright," the Black Knight whispered, his voice soothing and calm. Jacob stared at his father, his face growing even paler. Erik didn't know which one of them was more stunned by this change of character. "I've come to get you out," Erik explained, slowly reaching out towards the boy, not wanting to frighten him any further.

Jacob looked up at his father, a man who was a legend for his bloodthirsty battles. Those hands that were reaching out to him were the same hands that had killed countless men. That face that hid behind the mask was the same face that caused women and children to scream with fright. And the voice that spoke to him in the darkness was the same voice that was infamous for flying into a wild rage.

And Jacob could not be gladder to see him.

"Papa!" the boy cried, throwing himself against his father, wrapping his arms tightly around the Black Knight's waist and losing himself to his tears, not caring for a moment that knights weren't meant to cry. He was only 11…surely 11-year-old knights were allowed to cry in certain situations.

Erik let out a shuddering gasp as he felt his son's arms, and quickly wrapped his own around the boy, lifting him off the ground and hugging him fiercely to his chest. Never had he experienced such fear…or such relief.

He was also extremely angry. Angry that Jacob had been in such a situation, and angry that no one had told him…especially when it was quite obvious that Christine knew! But now was not the time to demand answers or inflict punishments for foolish behavior. All that mattered now was getting the two of them back to Winterbourne in one piece. "Jacob, this cave is going to flood if we don't get out of here quickly." It was true; the water was up to Sir Erik's thighs.

"B-b-but there's only one way out…" his voice trembled as he gazed at the cave's entrance.

"I know," Erik sighed. "But if we stay in here much longer, we will drown. Now, do you have any rope?"

Jacob looked around at what was left of his supplies. He had always kept some rope in case something did happen and he had to get out of the cave and needed to climb up the cliffs. Thankfully, it was one of the few things the water hadn't taken. "Yes!" he cried, finding the rope atop a nearby rock. "Are we going to climb out?"

"Nay," Sir Erik muttered, taking the rope and quickly tying it around his son's waist. "We're going to have to swim…and I'm not losing you twice!"

Jacob watched as his father then tied the other end of the rope to his own waist. "But Papa, I can swim myself—"

"No Jacob!" Erik shouted, the stress quite evident in his voice. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves and not startle the boy. "I do not doubt your abilities," he explained, looking directly into his son's golden eyes. "And I will need you to use your skills with holding your breath and helping me to kick, especially when we dive down. But the storm is so fierce I fear that I will lose you out there if we are not connected…do you understand?"

Jacob squared his shoulders and nodded his head. While he could swim, he had never swam in anything like this, and he knew that it was far more likely for both he and his father to become separated by the waves, were they not joined together by the rope. He was just grateful that his father did not think him helpless.

"Good lad," Erik murmured, feeling a swell of pride fill his chest. He vowed to himself then and there that should they survive this, he was going to be sure to teach his son everything there was to know about being a knight. While Jacob was hot headed and lacked common sense…he did not lack courage. Indeed, should they survive this he would be sure to follow Christine's advice and be that attentive father for all his children.

Christine. The sudden thought of his young bride gave another surge of strength to the Black Knight, and another reason as to why he desperately wanted to survive this ordeal.

"I'm ready, Papa," Jacob declared, trying to sound as brave as possible. Erik looked down once more at his son and nodded his head, before leading the boy towards the end of the cave.

"When a wave crashes, take a deep breath and hold it…we're going to let the current take us back out!"

Jacob nodded his head and watched with wide eyes as a large wave drew dangerously close.

"Get ready!" Erik shouted above the storm's thunder.

Jacob could feel his heart slamming back and forth inside his chest. He was already taking in great gulps of air.

"NOW!" Erik roared, before taking in a large gulp himself and grabbing hold of his son as the water overtook them and sucked them back out to sea.

* * *

Christine was on her knees, rocking herself back and forth, Sir Erik's soaked tunic pressed tightly against her breast, her blue eyes searching the ocean's churning waters, hoping, praying, that she would catch some sign of life.

She remembered all those tales about the sea that she had heard at Baron de Coleville's, but not one of them had ever been about its dangers and fury. While the sea was extremely beautiful and captivating, she found that she had new respect for it, and knew she would never look at it the same way again.

They should have been back by now! She saw the wave carry Sir Erik into the cave; surely it was not that deep, surely by now he would have found Jacob? Unless…

No, she refused to think of such things. While Jacob was a child, he was strong and resourceful, he knew what to do in order to take care of himself; he was the Black Knight's son after all!

But where were they? If anything happened to either of them, she would never forgive herself. She remembered the rage she saw in her husband's face when he stopped her from jumping. He had put his trust in her to look after his children, and she had miserably failed. She should have gone into that cave herself, she should have confronted Jacob, and she should have dragged him out by the hair on his head, no matter how hard he struggled. This wasn't a game anymore; Jacob could die! And it would be all her fault.

"Please God," she prayed, gripping the tunic even tighter. "Please…I don't care what becomes of me, I don't need Sir Erik's affection…or love. I don't even need his respect. I will go about my days here at Winterbourne as a servant and do my duties, just please…don't let them die. Please…please, I beg of you…save them!"

"CHRISTINE!"

Christine's breath caught in her throat; oh please, don't let that be the wind howling…

"CHRISTINE!"

She turned and gasped as she saw both Sir Erik and Jacob, crawling up the cliff's edge, coughing up water and gulping in air. She rose to her feet and ran as fast as the mud would allow, gripping one of her husband's powerful arms and attempting to help pull him over the edge.

"Jacob…" he coughed. "Help Jacob…"

Christine nodded her head and grabbed the boy by both hands, pulling him up and helping him to crawl off to the side, where he continued to cough before collapsing out of exhaustion onto the muddy ground.

Christine wrapped both her arms around one of the Black Knight's arms, and using all the strength she had, and hauled him up over the edge, until he collapsed next to his son, breathing in heavily and wiping the salty brine from his masked face.

She couldn't believe it…they were alive! They were safe! She silently said a prayer of thanks as she quickly went to work with untying the rope around Jacob's waist. "Hurry," she instructed, trying to help the boy to his feet. "We must get you both back to the castle and dry you off before you fall ill."

"P-p-papa…" Jacob murmured, looking over at his father who lay on his back, the cords of his muscles bulging from the labor they had endured.

"I…I'll be alright, Jacob…" Erik reassured, before turning his eyes to Christine. "Get him back to the castle…I will follow."

Christine's eyes widened. "I'm not going to leave you here—"

"I said I'll be alright!" he bellowed. His lungpower was about the only strength he had left.

"Erik—"

"Please Christine…" his voice had softened and for the first time since she had known him, the fearsome Black Knight looked more afraid than anything. "Please…he's my son."

Christine's heart swelled and she nodded her head, hating that she was leaving him on a muddy cliff, but understanding his concern. "I will come back with some help," she assured him, before helping Jacob stand on his feet. Erik nodded and collapsed once more against the ground, a heavy sleep threatening to overtake him.

Christine bit her lip, her mind already reeling with worries. "Erik, you must stay awake!" she insisted, shaking him violently. Erik's eyes widened for a moment and he slowly nodded his head. His reflexes were slow, and Christine knew that she had to be quick.

So, she did the only thing she could with hopes to keep him awake and alert.

The pressure of Christine's lips startled Erik, and his eyes flew open once more. That sweet taste that he had been dreaming about for the last few days returned, and a soft groan escaped his mouth as he felt her tongue timidly dip inside to offer him an even better taste. How he longed to lift his arms and hold her head against his, to wrap them around her body, to respond to her kiss with his own passionate force. But he lacked the strength, and all he could do was cling to that moment and find the will power to stay alert long enough until he could savor her sweet lips once more.

Christine slowly lifted her face away, her forehead touching her husband's as she released her own shuddering breath. "I'll be back soon…I promise…" she murmured, her face flushed and her body tingling.

She rose to her feet and quickly took a wide-eyed Jacob by the shoulders, guiding him back as quickly as she could towards Winterbourne, her mind set with determination, and her heart staying behind with Sir Erik to keep him safe.


	14. Disturbing Truths

**Summery:** Sir Erik awakes, but not in the most pleasant of ways. Christine confronts him on his role as a father, and together, the two of them face startling revelations that they dare not share if they can help it...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Disturbing Truths_**

_"Erik…"_

_A strange pain stung at his eyes as he attempted to open them at the sound of the siren's voice._

_"Erik, please wake up…"_

_Why did it hurt to open his eyes? He desperately longed to see the vision that contained the sensual voice, a voice that haunted his dreams, no matter how deeply he fought the memories._

_"Please my love…"_

_A curl of hair fell across his lips, and for a moment, Erik could breathe in its intoxicating fragrance._

_"Oh Erik…open your eyes my darling, please…open your eyes and look at me…"_

_He wanted to, a part of him desperately wanted to look at her, but another part of him was fighting it, wanting desperately to slumber in this heavy darkness that surrounded him. _

_"Don't ignore me!"_

_The tone had changed. No longer was his siren calling out to him sweetly; her voice was darker, heavier, and there was something sinister as well…_

_"I have ways of making you notice me!" the voice declared, and in that instant, his eyes flew open as he felt the hellion's body mount his own, her red hair glowing in the firelight as she threw her head back and let out a frightening sound, somewhere between a moan of ecstasy and a cackle of evil glee. "Noticing me now, my love?" she purred, before leaning down and smashing her lips against his, her tongue forcing its way inside his mouth._

_Erik was stunned at seeing her there. This was not possible! He opened his mouth to murmur her name, but her harpy's tongue had already invaded, rendering him speechless. He tried to push her off him, but his body was completely robbed of its strength. He, the infamous Black Knight, a man whose strength rivaled that of ten men, was completely and utterly powerless, and this witch was taking such delight in that fact._

_He swore under his breath as he felt her teeth bite his tongue, before tearing her mouth away, smiling with deep satisfaction, before licking the small trickle of blood from her lips. "Mmm…have you missed me as much as I have missed you?" she purred._

_Erik glared at her, his eyes filled with pain and hatred. "Beatrice—"_

_"Shh…" she lifted a finger to her lips and cocked her head to one side, as if listening very carefully to some distant sound. "Who is that?"_

_Erik suddenly heard the sound too, and turned his head in its direction, gasping as the stunned and pale figure of Christine stood only a few feet away from him._

_"You replaced me with that?"_

_Erik felt a stab of pain rake across his body at the look of confusion and betrayal in Christine's blue eyes. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but the siren had her hands around his chin and forced him to look at her once more. "Foolish Erik…how will she look at you when she discovers the truth?"_

_Time stopped in that moment. He had no chance to question Beatrice, he had no opportunity to even breathe, for in that moment, no sooner had she finished speaking, that he felt her hell cat's claws dig into the flesh around his face, and rip the mask that he wore right off._

"NOOOOO!"

"My lord!"

"GET OFF ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"My lord! Calm down, please!" Bernard gasped, trying desperately to keep his master from lashing out and beating him within an inch of his life. "My lord, it's I, you're alright! Please…please calm down…"

Erik's struggles slowly began to subside as his senses returned to him and he was able to recognize his friend. He realized then that he was in his bedchamber, covered by several blankets, and the heavy fragrance of beef stew perfumed the air. Around him stood several of his men-at-arms, each looking terrified from their master's violent outbursts, while Bernard, and two others, were slowly lifting their hands away from his shoulders. Even in his weakened state, it had taken three men to hold him down.

A dream. It had all been some strange, fiendish dream. He had not thought about Beatrice since…

His mask! Erik's body went rigid and his hands flew to his face; a long sigh of exhaustion and relief left his lungs as he felt the familiar shield that covered his most hated secret.

"The Master is awake? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Anne pushed her way through the small gathering of Erik's men and let out her own sigh of relief as her eyes took in those of the Black Knight. "Oh praise God's holy name!" Anne murmured, crossing herself. "We were so worried about you, Master, when we found you, you were barely breathing!"

Erik's brow furrowed slightly. His memory was opaque, like the horizon on a foggy morning.

"Indeed, my lord. None of us had seen you return, and then when Lady Christine ran into the castle, shouting about you nearly drowning—"

Erik's eyes went wide at the sound of his wife's name. "Christine?" he attempted to sit up, a little too quickly, which caused his head to throb. "W-w-where is she? Where's Christine?"

Anne clucked her tongue, bringing a piping hot bowl of beef stew over to Erik's bedside. "She's alright, don't worry about her ladyship. You need to get some hot food in your stomach—"

"WHERE'S MY WIFE?" he demanded, his voice a deep roar.

"I'm here."

Everyone turned at the sound of the soft feminine voice, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, the small group that crowded Sir Erik parted, revealing the petite brunette who stood by herself in a corner. After Erik got over the initial shock of her actually being there, he allowed his eyes to sweep over her figure, recalling how when he had found her out by the cliffs, she was barely wearing anything, and was completely soaked to the bone. Now, her wet hair had been pulled back, and she wore a heavy robe, to which she held tightly to her body. Her face was pale, even her hands looked pale, in fact, she looked as if she were shivering under his gaze. And there was something else clasped in her hands…what was it?

"Leave us," Erik ordered, his eyes never leaving Christine's.

Anne was the first to protest. "Nay my lord! You need to eat this stew, you need—"

"Peace is what I need!" he barked, glaring at the servant woman and his men-at-arms.

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and took a step towards Sir Erik. "Do not worry, Anne. I will see that he eats the stew."

Erik cocked his visible eyebrow at this, but said nothing more. He cast one last fierce look at his men, who sighed and bowed, before leaving. Bernard had to coax Anne out of the room, who was making it quite plain that she disapproved of her master's decision, but she did give Christine a thankful smile as she left. The room filled with silence as the last of its unwanted inhabitants left, shutting the door behind them.

Christine let out a shaky breath of her own, her eyes fixed to the fireplace, as she awaited the Black Knight's lecture, for surely that was why he wanted to speak to her. He would demand to know why she was out by the cliffs in the first place, and demand to learn how she knew of Jacob's presence being inside that cave, and why she didn't tell anyone until that dangerous point of his whereabouts. Wives could be beaten for keeping such secrets.

Erik studied his young bride for a moment, noticing how the fire created a soft glow around her face and hair. "My son?"

Christine turned her eyes to Erik's, her hands pulling the robe even tighter around her body. While Sir Erik was sleeping, Christine visited Jacob, glad to see that he was breathing normally and sleeping quite soundly. Anne had been able to get Jacob to drink some hot cider and eat a little beef stew, before finally allowing the exhausted boy to sleep. Jacob's eyes opened momentarily when he heard Christine standing beside him. Before sleep took him once more, he begged for Christine to fetch him once his father was awake. Christine had no doubts now; all of the children truly did love their father. "Jacob is doing well…he is sleeping right now," she whispered, before quickly turning her eyes back to the fireplace.

Erik nodded his head, satisfied with her answer. Even if his children proved to be unruly, Erik knew he could trust them with Christine. Despite the horrible tricks they had played on her, she genially seemed to care about them. She had made that all too clear when she charged him with neglect.

Erik felt his jaw tighten at the memories of Christine's words, as well as the fears he had faced only moments earlier. Erik had no idea where his children…or his wife for that matter, had been all day! Even after organizing a militant search, none of his men had found any trace of them. Even he, the ruthless and fearsome Black Knight, a soldier known for his cunning and skill, had been looking in all the wrong places. Perhaps if he had paid closer attention, as Anne had accused the night before, he would have had an idea as to where to find them. Perhaps then, the danger that both he and his eldest son had gone through would not have been necessary. Good God… Jacob could have died!

"How long have you known?"

Christine was startled by the growl that escaped her husband's lips. However, she didn't know why; after all, she had been preparing herself for this moment ever since Sir Erik had been brought back to the castle. "All day, my lord," she whispered, feeling her cheeks color with shame. He had married her for one simple reason…and she hadn't even done that correctly.

"All day?" Erik could not hide the surprise in his voice. All day long, his son had been inside that cave…and no one had known about it? "You didn't say anything…" he murmured, his voice rising with a slight hint of accusation.

"Nay my lord, which was wrong of me," Christine murmured, her eyes never leaving the fire. She knew that if she looked into the Black Knight's golden gaze, she would not be able to hold back her tears; it was not fear that she had for herself, but shame. Shame at failing her task, and shame at failing him.

Why she cared what he thought of her, she did not know. He had made it abundantly clear on several occasions that this marriage was not about love and respect.

Erik cocked his visible brow once more, his jaw tightening as he watched her gaze into the fire. Why did she refuse to look at him? "And what of you?" he practically spat, not meaning to sound so harsh, but feeling his frustrations grow to a boiling point.

Christine had been caught off guard by that question and turned to meet his eyes. "M-m-me?"

"YES!" Erik roared, his irritations boiling over. He sat up in the bed, the blankets falling to reveal the full expanse of his broad and muscular chest. "YOU! ALL DAY I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU! YOU WERE NOWHERE IN SIGHT! I THOUGHT YOU HAD GONE! I SEARCHED THE NUN'S ABBEY, I SEARCHED THE COUNTRYSIDE, AND I EVEN RODE AS FAR AS VALMOUR, AND I STILL COULD NOT FIND YOU!"

Most people would be trembling with fear from the Black Knight's outburst, but Christine could only stare, her mouth hanging open in shock as she listened to Sir Erik's roar. Was he admitting that…he had been worried about her?

Nay, he didn't see her as anything but a servant, just as her dream attacker had accused. To Sir Erik, she was just another piece of property, and no one likes losing things that belong to them.

Erik had finally managed to get control of his emotions, although it was causing every muscle in his body to go rigid with strain. "I have been riding all day…searching for you…and when I return, I find you, here, all this time, with my children!"

Christine's eyes widened once more. Sir Erik had seen her with the children?

"And then…then what do I find?" he was chuckling, but it was anything but humorous. "I see my wife…the mistress of Winterbourne Castle…practically naked, standing on a cliff, ready to fling herself over the edge!"

Christine could not help but feel the blush that heated her cheeks at Sir Erik's mention of seeing her naked. While she had been wearing her shift, the rain had practically made the material transparent. She looked down from his eyes and felt the lump in her throat grow even more as she found herself staring at the rigid muscles on his chest.

Christine had never seen a man naked, and she knew that that was exactly what Sir Erik was. After she led Bernard and his men-at-arms to where he lay by the cliffs, they quickly carried him back, and immediately began to undress him so that he would not grow ill for being in wet clothes. Christine had been with them the entire time, not wanting to leave Sir Erik's side, however when she realized what they were doing, she quickly turned her back, her face a deeper shade of red than any rose. Once she heard the sounds of sheets and blankets being folded and lifted, she knew then it was safe to turn around, however she had caught the briefest glimpse of Sir Erik's buttocks before the blankets fully covered him. Even now, her cheeks were flooding with color from the memory.

Sir Erik's chest was broad and muscular, which proved that it wasn't simply his armor that made him look so imposing. His skin was covered with scars, battle scars, some of which looked nasty and painful. The sight of them did not disgust Christine; it was sadness that she felt, sadness at the pain the Black Knight must have gone through during all his years at war. Sadness…curiosity…and another emotion that Christine did not wish to dwell on.

She realized that she had been staring at him for quite some time and quickly lifted her eyes once more, deciding it was better to take her chances by locking them with his fierce gaze than allowing them to wander over his body…and allow herself to imagine…

She quickly scolded herself. She also scolded herself for imagining that she heard pain in his voice, when he mentioned finding her by the cliff's edge. He would miss his servant, but not her.

Erik had noticed the way she had been staring at his naked chest, and could not help but find himself aroused at the curious expression she wore…or the bashful color that flooded her face now. It was yet another reminder that the two of them had not become husband and wife in every sense. He had been far too furious at the time to appreciate her nearly naked form when he had found her. Was life married to him so bad that suicide was the only answer? Of course, now he knew the truth, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could recall her small round breasts that had been clearly visible through the wet fabric, each crowned with rosy nipples that caused Sir Erik's mouth to water. She had a slender waist, round hips, and her thighs and legs left little to his imagination. He found himself wondering about the hidden treasure between her thighs…were its curls as wild as the ones that topped her head? Were they as soft? He already longed to run his fingers through her hair…now he was stirring with desire as he thought of running them somewhere else. Even now, he could not help but notice the way she gripped the edges of her robe. Was she naked now? He felt himself grow harder at the thought of the two of them being naked and being so close to one another…

_STOP IT!_ He could not think about such things. This was not about him! Besides, he had learned his lesson long ago about trusting one's heart with a woman. Christine seemed innocent, yes, but once she understood the power that women could wield, gone would be her innocence, and she too would become a hellion…just like Beatrice.

Multiple women had broken his heart in multiple ways. He would not put himself through that again!

Besides…what woman would touch him now?

"I know now, why you were at the cliff…and for what you were willing to do, I am grateful…although it was perhaps the most foolish thing I have ever observed," he muttered under his breath, his own eyes moving away from hers.

Christine felt her own jaw tighten. Yes, she blamed herself for allowing Jacob to remain in a place of danger…but Sir Erik wasn't exempted from guilt either…

"But next time…do not keep such secrets from me. Off all the things in this world, deceit is the one thing I do not have tolerance for."

That did it. Christine, who had been standing by, reverting back once more to her meek manner of servitude, felt those strange passionate feelings burst forth once more. "How dare you!" she spat, her blue eyes raging with a storm of their own. "How dare you! You…you…hypocrite!"

Erik's own eyes widened, and he stared at her in stunned amazement. "Hypocrite?"

"YES!" Christine shouted, her hands falling away from the robe and tightening into fists of rage. "You dare to sit in judgment of me when you, yourself, are guilty of the very sin you despise!"

Erik opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off completely as Christine continued.

"I take full responsibility for what happened to Jacob, yes," Christine declared, her anger kindling by the second. "I knew, all day, and even when I went to bed, that Jacob was out there. When the storm came to Winterbourne, I still knew…and I did nothing, despite what my heart screamed at me to do. I should have dragged him by his hair back to the castle before the tide came in, before any of this had to happen! And for that, I believe you are justified in your anger," she narrowed her eyes and gripped the ends of his bed, before leaning in. "But you also share this blame."

Erik had been lost in her passion. What had become of her? That meek creature he had found at the de Coleville's still existed; no one would think the brown-haired petite girl was anything more upon looking at her. But ever since he had brought her to Winterbourne, something had happened…her meekness melted away to reveal a fiery, spirited woman, who spoke freely and showed no fear before the hideous Black Knight.

His awe in this change quickly vanished, however, when she accused him of also being to blame.

"I did not know he was down there! Had I known, I certainly would not have left him there to drown!"

Christine squared her shoulders, expecting such an answer. "Are you sure? Or did I imagine you telling me the other night how it is not uncommon for Jacob…or any of the children for that matter, to go missing? And that you do not worry about it?"

Erik felt a growl escape his throat. "I had always believed the children were hiding somewhere on the castle grounds. Had I known—"

"I think you mean if you cared—"

Christine had gone too far. "DON'T ACCUSE ME OF NOT CARING ABOUT MY CHILDREN! THEY ARE MY LIFE! I WOULD GLADLY GIVE MY LIFE FOR THEM!"

Christine bit her lip once the words had tumbled out of her mouth. She knew Sir Erik spoke the truth, after all, he had risked his life that very night to save Jacob. However, he needed to understand that his children were unaware of his love for them. "I know you love them," she sighed, hoping the calmness in her voice would also calm him down. "I have seen two examples of that love already…but they do not know that!"

Erik gritted his teeth. "So diving into the ocean and risking my life—"

"Do you want all your children to be placed in dangerous situations?"

Erik was taken aback by her words. "What madness are you speaking?"

"I'm speaking of the madness you are creating!" she shouted. "If your children even think that the only way to have your love proved to them is by throwing themselves into danger, I swear it will entirely be on your head!"

Erik stared at her in stunned silence as she trembled from the anger that coursed through her blood. "My children are not so foolish—"

"Do you know what Helena said to me earlier today?"

Erik blinked at his wife for a moment, trying to fathom his daughter talking to the same woman she had so rudely called ugly.

"Charles was afraid you would punish them for missing," Christine went on, fighting back the angry tears that were beginning to brim in her eyes. "Charles was even worried to the point that you would beat them."

Erik felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He would never beat his children! Yes, he had roared and shouted and had been furious with them before…but he would never beat anyone or anything that was physically weaker than himself.

"Helena was quick to reassure him that you wouldn't beat him," Christine explained, noticing how Erik seemed to relax slightly to this revelation. "She was quick to tell him that you wouldn't because you didn't care!"

"That's absolute nonsense—"

"They use that cave all the time!" Christine shouted, the fire burning brightly inside her. "They hide there not so much as to escape your wrath…but to see how long it will take you to notice them missing!" she spat, disgusted with how long this foolishness had been running. "Sarah and Sabrina were the ones who showed me the cave," she informed him, pleased with the shocked look on his face that the two little twin girls were capable of such knowledge. "They also showed me all the secret passages that the children use to take food and supplies to their secret hide out, and they wait and stay for as long as they can stand it…waiting for you to finally find them."

Christine turned her face away then, her eyes focusing once more on the flames that leapt inside the fireplace. "Imagine their surprise today when they learned that you had ordered your men to find them. For the first time in so many years…their father seemed to actually care to know what had become of them."

Erik felt his jaw tighten at Christine's words. He wanted to shout at her that he did care about his children, and roar at her accusations. How dare she! How dare she…

…reveal the truth.

"They don't want your men seeking them out…and they don't want you to perform heroic acts to prove your love," Christine sighed, turning her face once more to that of her masked husband's. Erik was surprised to see her eyes shimmering with tears; the sight caused a pang of pain to pierce his chest. "They love you, my lord. They misbehave, yes, but they do it with hopes that you'll notice them," she lifted her hands then and quickly began to wipe her cheeks, ashamed that she had allowed herself to cry. "They don't need me, my lord, they never wanted a new mother," she sniffled, finally regaining some composure, before looking once more into the Black Knight's dragon-like eyes. "They have always wanted their father; you are the one they need, your love is the love they long for…"

Christine felt the tears swell up again and she cursed herself for not having better control over her emotions. She had to get out of there; it was the only way for her to cling to what little dignity she had. "I've resolved myself to the role I have been brought for," she whispered, her eyes looking down at floor. "But please, my lord…do not deny your children."

Before Erik could even speak, Christine fled the chamber as fast as her feet would allow, the bang of the chamber door echoing throughout the castle. A great sigh escaped his lungs; had he forgotten to breathe since she had been speaking? A tidal wave of different emotions were flooding through his veins, each confusing him more and more…each dealing with the servant girl he had married. A part of him yearned to cry out to her, to demand that she come back, but the other part of him, the cowardly part of him, restrained that yearning, and kept him silenced.

The bowl of stew that Anne had left him was beginning to grow cold. Erik had not eaten all evening, and yet what appetite he may have had was gone completely now. Christine had promised the old woman that she would see to it that Erik had eaten, a task at the time Erik thought highly unlikely…and yet now, he longed for Christine to come back, to continue arguing with him, before insisting that he eat the stupid meal.

He groaned and pushed the bowl away from him, feeling utterly disgusted. His plan had seemed so simple; provide the children with a mother, have someone there to give them the love and care they needed, to be their friend, companion, and teacher. And yet he knew…he knew that it had been an excuse to push himself away from them and the painful memories that met him every time he looked at their young faces. But it was wrong to punish them for the faults of their mothers. And it was wrong to deceive Christine into that role.

Something on the floor caught Sir Erik's eye, something damp and black. He realized as he reached down to retrieve it that it was the thing Christine had been clinging to just as tightly as the ends of her robe. He unfolded the black piece of fabric and saw his insignia decorated upon it.

It was the tunic he had been wearing earlier, the one he had thrown off before diving into the waters to rescue Jacob. The way she had held it, the way she had clung to it…it was as if her very life depended on it…

Erik groaned and collapsed back against the bed, allowing the pillows to engulf him, wishing they could smother him from the pain that was throbbing in his head…and his heart. After the disturbing dream he had experienced with Beatrice, sleep was the last thing he wanted. Nay, it was much better to remain awake and curse himself rather than allow his former mistress, and the mother of Jacob and Helena, to do so.

With a steady hand, Erik reached up to his face and pulled the mask away for a moment. He was sure Christine had not seen him without it; she would not have looked at him the same way if she had. Even old friends like Bernard looked at him differently after seeing his true face…if they looked at him at all. Christine had not seen him without it, and he had no intentions of ever letting her, especially after his dream. He had awoken too suddenly to hear Christine's reaction, however he knew what it would be, for it was always the same; screams of terror, looks of disgust. He was already known for being a monster before his old nemesis threw hot oil upon his face; the Jackal had simply completed the Black Knight's reputation.

He did not know why, but for some reason, Sir Erik cared more about keeping the secret of his face hidden from Christine more than any other person. Her innocence would die the moment she laid eyes upon him, he knew it. And he did not wish to see that innocence fade from her beautiful blue eyes…

And while he did not question her actions, he remembered before drifting into a deep exhausted sleep, the feel of her sweet lips against his own…and the heavenly taste of her tongue in his mouth. She was only kissing him to keep him awake, of course. But then again, she could have slapped him if that had been her task. Nay, he would not think more of it, he knew what he was, and he knew that she was not for him…even if he wished it.

And God…how he was wishing it…


	15. Needful Peace

**Summery:** The children learn about the events of the night before...but will they believe the truth about Jacob's rescuer?

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Needful Peace_**

"He looks so pale…"

"Do you think he's dead?"

"Don't be stupid, Sarah!"

"Don't call my sister stupid!"

"Oh, shut up Sabrina!"

"All of you be quiet!" Helena hissed at her brother and two younger sisters. "He's waking up…"

Slowly, Jacob's eyes fluttered open, a groan escaping his lips as a soft ray of sunlight poured across his face from the window that overlooked his bed. He had heard whispering, and as his eyes slowly adapted to the light, he came to focus on four separate heads that were crowded around him.

"Jacob!" both Sarah and Sabrina cried, throwing their tiny arms around their older brother, causing him to groan as their fierce hug practically knocked the wind out of him.

"Give the boy some air!" Helena scolded, gently prying her little sisters away, although she too shared in their joy. During the night, she awoke to realize that Christine was nowhere to be found! Had the new woman gone back to her chamber without telling them? However, she quickly heard whispering coming from the hallway, and quietly walked over to the door, gasping as she saw Anne carefully lead a very soaked and ragged looking Jacob, into his own bedchamber. Helena was mad at her brother; that didn't mean she wished him ill will! She rushed out of the room, her mouth opening to call out Jacob's name, but Anne was faster, seeing her out of the corner of her eye.

"Nay, young mistress! Your brother needs warmth now, more than anything. Your questions can wait till morning."

Helena opened her mouth to protest, but Anne shushed her away from the door and quickly closed it behind her, leaving a very confused and very worried Helena, in the hall.

Helena had wandered back to where the others lay sleeping, and tried to join them in their mysterious dreamland, but it was no use. Images of Jacob soaked and trembling from spending hours alone in that cold wet cave, continued to float across her eyes. It wasn't until she heard movement once more, in the hallway, that Helena rose again.

Quietly, she tiptoed to the door and opened it just slightly, her gold eyes going wide as she saw Christine peeking into Jacob's chamber, her body wrapped in a warm robe, her brown hair dripping water droplets onto the floor. Christine heard the squeak of the door next to her, and turned her head to see Helena staring at her.

"Oh, Helena!" Christine gasped, her hand flying to her chest to calm herself. "You gave me such a fright!" she kept her voice low, not wanting to wake the others.

"You're wet…" Helena observed, noticing the wet footprints that Christine had left on the ground behind her. She glanced at the door to her brother's bedchamber and bit her lip. "Is Jacob…w-w-will he…?" He may have been cruel to her, but he was still her brother. More than that, he was her best friend!

Christine saw the young girl choke back on the tears that threatened to fall, and quickly knelt before the girl, offering her arms out, to which Helena immediately sought. "Shh…" Christine whispered into the girl's fiery curls. "He'll be alright; he's going to be alright…"

Helena's arms tightened around Christine's shoulders as the tears she had been fighting poured forth. Christine gently rocked the child, her hold on the girl not relinquishing for a second. "T-t-this is m-my f-f-fault…" Helena whimpered into Christine's shoulder. "I t-told Jacob I…I d-d-didn't c-care…"

"Hush," Christine murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "This is not your fault…and Jacob will be alright. Anne told me that he is fine; he's eaten some stew, he's warm and dry, and what he needs right now more than anything, is a good night's sleep," she gently cupped Helena's face so that she could look into the young girl's eyes. "By morning, Jacob will be as good as new," Christine smiled, brushing a red curl away from the child's forehead.

Helena swallowed the last of her tears and forced a smile, desperately wanting to believe that Christine's words were true. "Thank you…" she whispered, before fiercely hugging Christine once more. Perhaps their father had been right? Maybe they did need a mother…

Christine slowly rose to her feet, and holding Helena's hand in hers, guided her back to her bed. The others were still huddled together on the one bed, and Helena chose to join them as opposed to seeking sleep alone. Christine dropped a gentle kiss on Helena's forehead, before pulling the blankets up around the girl, who was now snuggled between her twin sisters. "Will you stay with Jacob? Until morning?" she whispered, her voice soft and pleading.

Christine's heart swelled at the child's request, and quietly nodded her head. It was all she could do to keep from crying. She kissed the girl's forehead once more, before quietly exiting the chamber.

When Helena awoke that morning, she leapt out of bed and shoved at her siblings. "Wake up! Jacob's back! He was trapped in the cave!"

"W-w-what?" Charles groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Just what I said!" Helena hissed, shaking her twin sisters until their eyes were open. "Jacob was trapped in the cave, he almost drowned! But Christine saved him!"

With that, she flew from the room, leaving her confused and half-woken siblings in her wake, before bursting into the other bedchamber.

True to her word, Christine was there, her head sagged against one shoulder, and her hand curled inside one of Jacob's. "Christine!" Helena hissed, rushing to the young woman and shaking her arm.

Christine awoke with a start and turned her attention to the young girl before her. "H-h-helena?"

"Is Jacob alright? Will he live?"

Christine felt a sharp pain in her neck, realizing that she had fallen asleep in the chair next to the boy's bed. She looked down at Jacob and gently touched his forehead, a thankful smile spreading across her lips. "He has no fever," she gratefully sighed. "I do believe he will recover quickly."

Helena let out a shaky sigh, her smile bright and wide and thankful. Suddenly, Charles and the twins bowled into the room, each looking worried and confused at what was happening. Christine smiled and quickly motioned for them to come close. "Your brother was caught in the cave last night, but he is doing fine," she reassured.

"Look!" Sabrina cried, pointing at Jacob's face. The boy's eyes were beginning to flutter, and the others quickly crowded around, each muttering a series of questions as they gazed at their pale brother.

Christine sighed and quietly left the chamber, deciding to give the siblings some privacy for their joyous reunion. Whatever harsh feelings were felt the day prior, she had a good feeling they would disappear with the morning rays.

Jacob's head was groggy, and his eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight that poured across his face. He felt the soft weight of his sisters being hefted away from him by Helena and Charles, and after squinting a few times, finally opened his eyes wide enough to take in everything around him.

When had he come back to his room? The last thing he remembered was staying in the cave, after Helena and Charles had abandoned him…

No, they didn't abandon him, he sent them away. He was being stubborn, wanting to prove to everyone that he was just as brave and fearless as the knights that served Winterbourne Castle, so he chose to stay in that cave despite the fact that he would be alone, despite the fact of the growing storm—

The storm! Suddenly it was all coming back to him. "J-j-jacob?" The older boy realized that Charles was whimpering his name, and finally turned his golden eyes to those of his brother. Charles bit his lip, intense worry mirrored in his eyes. "I-is it true?" he nervously asked. "D-d-did you almost d-drown?"

"Of course he almost drowned!" Helena hissed, groaning with annoyance. "I told you he had been caught in that cave, why else would he have returned last night, soaked to the bone?"

Jacob attempted to sit up, groaning as his muscles screamed with pain. He felt so sore, especially in his legs. "I…" he coughed, his lungs hurting slightly. "I…I don't remember much…" he murmured, his head still foggy.

"It's alright, Jacob," Helena soothed, smiling down at her brother, taking the role of nursemaid by the horns. "You're going to be alright. Christine said you don't have a fever, and that you'll recover quickly, but we should probably get you some hot food and drink to help, you just rest," she then shooed her brother and sisters away from the bed. "One of you should go and fetch Jacob something from the kitchens!" she hissed at them.

Charles frowned. "Why don't you? You're a girl, it's your job to serve men—ouch!" Charles whimpered when Sarah and Sabrina stomped on both of his feet.

Helena rolled her eyes. "Because I say so, that's why! You had your fill of ordering me about yesterday! Now do as I say and get Jacob something from the kitchens!"

"No! Why do I have to go? Why not them?" he pointed at his younger sisters.

"We want to stay with Jacob!" they both protested, their little plump faces darkening with determined frowns.

"Well so do I! I'm his only brother, I have a right to—"

"Enough!" all eyes turned to see Christine standing in the doorway, her face trying to conceal the amusement that she had found in their arguing. "I will go and fetch something for Jacob. Today is not a day for arguments, but for celebrations. Your brother will be fine, but he does need his rest, so when I get back, you need to leave him be, at least for a while," she instructed, before giving all the children a loving smile, and leaving them in peace.

Helena smiled after Christine, her chest swelling with pride. "Oh Jacob," she sighed, turning once more towards her brother. "I was so worried last night, when I saw you in the hallway—why, you looked like a drowned sewer rat!"

Jacob's head was still foggy, but he did manage to give his sister a sour look for her choice of words.

"Thank heaven Christine got to you in time," she sighed again, tucking the blankets up around her brother's chest.

Jacob's brow furrowed. "W-w-what?"

Now everyone's attention seemed to be on Helena. "Is it true?" Charles whispered, remembering the words Helena had said when she woke them up that morning. "Did Christine really save Jacob from drowning?"

"Of course it's true!" Helena snapped, not liking her words being questioned. "I saw it with my own eyes! Jacob being brought to his chamber, soaked to the bone, and then a little while later, I saw Christine peeking in to check on him, her own hair and skin soaked through! Besides, who else, besides us, knew that he was down there?"

This made good sense, and the others slowly began to nod their heads as Helena's reasoning washed over them, but Jacob didn't seem as convinced. He remembered the water seeping in, he remembered the waves crashing against the cave's entrance, and he remembered huddling in a far corner, praying that the rain would stop, praying that morning would come, and he could escape the wretched place.

…And then he remembered a huge, dark creature, invading the cave, roaring his name—and rescuing him from drowning. It wasn't a woman who had saved him, but…but a man. A man who, when the lightning illuminated the cave, wore a mask…

"FATHER!" Jacob gasped, sitting straight up in bed. The others jumped by his sudden movement, and Helena watched with horror as Jacob attempted to throw off the blankets and climb out.

"W-w-what are you doing?" she gasped, trying to force him back, but even in his weakened state, he was too strong. "Christine said that you need to stay in bed! You need to get your rest so you can get your strength back!"

"I don't care what she says," Jacob grumbled as he gripped the edge of his bed, his legs wobbling just slightly, the muscles sore and tired. "I have to see Father."

"Why?" Helena asked, giving up on trying to force him back into bed, and instead, folding her arms across her chest and choosing to block the doorway. "Why do you care about seeing Papa? You're always talking about how you hate him…"

"Get out of my way, Helena," Jacob growled, his mood darkening with her questions. He didn't have to explain his reasons to anyone; he was the first-born son of the Black Knight, he could do whatever he wished! And right now, he wanted to see his father.

Helena's golden eyes matched the fire of her brother's. "This is about _her_ again, isn't it?"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "I don't care what you think Helena, but you are going to get out of my way, or I will put you out!"

Helena stood her ground. "Christine isn't bad, Jacob! I didn't like her at first, but that was more because of Papa, not her. She's actually very nice…and smart…and she tells beautiful stories."

"Yeah!"

Both Helena and Jacob looked down, surprised to see Sarah and Sabrina standing proudly next to their older sister, their little chins held up high, as they glared back at their brother.

"We like her!" Sarah declared proudly.

"She would play with us when you wouldn't!" Sabrina growled.

"And she saved your life!" Helena finished with a nod of her head. "You should at least thank her for that!"

"She didn't save my life!" Jacob roared with frustration. "Father did! It was Father who got me out of the cave!"

Charles, who had been standing and watching the argument unfold, let out a great gasp at his brother's words. "P-p-papa s-saved you?"

"YES!" Jacob shouted, his irritation growing by the minute. "Father was the one who jumped into the waters and risked his life to save mine! Ask your precious Christine, she'll tell you the truth!"

Helena didn't like the cynicism Jacob used when he spoke about Christine, and while a part of her wanted to believe her brother, she struggled with envisioning their father galloping to the rescue for…well, any of them really. He never seemed to care what happened to them before, why would he change now?

"Here now! What are all of ye doing?" Anne gasped, opening the door to see Helena and the twins standing in front of her. The old woman's eyes went wide with horrified shock as she took in the sight of her young master, being out of bed. "Jacob! Ye get yourself back into bed this instant, ye shouldn't be up and about—"

But the boy saw his chance and took it. Without a word or a look, he dashed out past the old woman and his sisters, and raced in the direction of his father's chambers, determined to see the man who had been his rescuer. He paid no heed to Anne's screech, or to the shouts of his siblings, he ran as fast as his wobbly legs would allow, needing to know that it hadn't been a dream, that his father truly did care and had come to his rescue, that—

"UMPH!"

Jacob let out a gasp and stumbled backwards as he ran into someone who was just coming around the corner. He looked at who had gotten in his way, and his eyes went wide as he took in Christine's shocked expression.

Christine had retreated to the kitchens to fetch some hot porridge for Jacob, when Anne had spotted her and asked if she had been in to see the boy that morning. Once Christine informed Anne that Jacob was awake, the old woman wasted no time with fetching a tray of food and immediately taking off for the chamber without a word or glance at the young woman. Christine was curious if Anne had been to see Sir Erik, but the old woman had already ascended the tower steps that led out of the kitchens towards the children's bedchambers.

Christine wasn't sure exactly what she should do. Should she follow Anne and lead the children away, so that Jacob could get some proper rest? Should she go and see if Sir Erik was awake? A part of her longed to know how Sir Erik was…but another part of her dreaded looking into the Black Knight's fierce gaze. No doubt he would not wish to speak with her after everything that had been said last night. However, he would wish to know about his son being awake, she was sure…perhaps she should go and inform him of this? Of course, she could simply have a servant go and tell him, that way he wouldn't have to be bothered with her…but there was still that part of her that longed to see him once more…

What were these foolish emotions? She hated him! Well, perhaps hate was too strong a word, but she certainly despised him! And it was quite clear that he didn't care for her, at least not the way a husband should care for a wife, but then again, he didn't want a wife, he wanted a woman to raise his children, to be their mother, although what the children wanted was a father, one who played games with them, one who laughed with them, one who cared where they went—

Christine hadn't realized that she had been walking while struggling with these thoughts, and the next thing she knew, as she turned a corner, was something had run into her, and if it hadn't been for the stone pillar that she was now leaning against, she would have toppled over!

"Jacob?" she gasped, realizing who had bowled into her. What was he doing out of bed? Where were the others? Where was he going in such a hurry?

Jacob attempted to push past Christine, determined to reach his destination, but Christine caught hold of the boy, although it was proving to be an extremely daunting task, as the boy struggled within her arms.

"Let me go!" he bellowed, his struggles increasing. "Get your hands off of me, now!"

"Hush!" Christine attempted to reason, although she knew it was in vain. The more she tried to hold the boy still, the harder he struggled. "Jacob, please! You—"

"I'M NOT GOING BACK TO BED UNTIL I SEE HIM!" he roared in her face, his gold eyes blazing with a fierceness that would make the Black Knight proud.

Realization slowly fell over Christine as she realized what the boy was asking. She remembered then the promise she had made to him last night, before he had fallen into a deep sleep. Jacob had asked for her to bring him to his father, the second Sir Erik was awake. While she had not done that then, the least she could do was allow the boy to go and see his rescuer now. "Alright," she calmly agreed, releasing her hold on Jacob, an act that stunned the boy speechless.

Jacob stared at the woman who stood before him, his brow lifted with question. Everyone else was trying to keep him from seeing his father it seemed, but this woman…this woman who he had despised the second she stepped foot inside his home, who had somehow gotten onto the good side of his siblings, and who Helena had declared, most passionately, was the one responsible for his rescue…was now allowing him to pass without so much as an explanation?

"Helena said you saved me," Jacob grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he took in Christine's small form. He was only eleven, but he was almost as tall as she. She didn't look strong enough to swim in those waves, and he distinctly remembered the Black Knight as the one who had entered the cave…or had it all been a dream?

Christine was startled by Jacob's words, and while he looked at her with wariness, she could read in his eyes a need to know the truth about the night before. The traumatic events must have affected his memory, she realized, but she could sense that somewhere in Jacob's mind, he recalled his father as the one who saved him, and while the boy may not wish to admit to her…she could tell that his heart yearned to know that what his mind wanted to believe…was true.

"I knew you were in the cave," Christine quickly clarified. "I had gone to fetch you when I realized how horrible the storm had become. I was going to jump into the water to try and reach you…but your father, Sir Erik…he saw me, and as soon as he learned you were down there, he didn't waste any time, he threw off his tunic, and dove into the ocean after you."

"Really?" gasped a small voice.

Both Christine and Jacob turned their heads to see the other children standing just a few feet away, their eyes wide with amazement as Christine retold everything.

"Yes," Christine confirmed, a warm smile spreading across her face. Helena seemed to be the most shocked out of all of them. Christine turned her attention back to Jacob and nodded her head. "It's true, Sir Erik swam to that cave, and found you. I don't know if you remember this Jacob, but he must have tied a rope around the two of you, so that he wouldn't lose you when you began to swim back—"

"I remember…" Jacob whispered, the memories finally becoming clearer and clearer once more.

Christine smiled. "Do you know what he said to me Jacob, when you reached the top of the cliff?" she asked, lowering herself so she was looking up at the boy. Jacob shook his head, while the other children quietly gathered around her, each looking eager to hear what had happened. "Your father said, 'help Jacob'. I was very afraid for your father, and I began to argue with him, wanting to help both of you back to the castle, but your father wouldn't hear it. He pleaded for me to take you back first; he said, 'please Christine…he's my son'."

Jacob took a deep breath and tried to wipe his eyes very discreetly, not wanting the others to notice that he was crying. Christine felt her heart swell at the boy's emotions, and she turned to the other children, smiling at each of them. "Your father loves you all very much…and I know that he would slay dragons for each of you," she whispered, her own emotions beginning to boil over as she quickly wiped away her own tears.

Helena seemed at a loss for words, and quickly bit her lip, her body trembling slightly from the revelation of it all. Charles, who normally seemed to look nervous whenever thinking about the Black Knight, now looked awestruck at the heroic tale of his father. And the twins…they both looked desperate to throw their little arms around their father, and feel his large, strong arms, wrap around them. Slowly, Christine rose to her feet, and reached out to place a hand on Jacob's shoulder. "Come," she whispered. "Let's all go and greet your father, together."

Mutely, the children nodded their heads, their steps slow, their breathing heavy with emotion, their eyes still wide as the truth of everything that had happened, had been revealed. Finally, they reached the chamber door of the Black Knight, and the children paused, looking to Christine for an answer on what to do next. "Go on," she whispered, smiling at them all. Jacob swallowed the lump in his throat, and nodded his head, before lifting his hand to knock on the door.

There was a long silence, and Christine bit her lip, praying that Sir Erik was truly alright, wondering if perhaps they should knock again, but before she lifted her fist to do just that, the door opened without warning, and Christine felt her breath catch in her throat as the Black Knight stared back at her, his large frame looking like a second door to the chamber with the way he filled it. His hair was unkempt, his face was grizzled, and his eyes seemed to have some wild look about them. He wore no shirt, only a pair of brown leather breeches and black knee-high boots. Christine's throat went dry, lost in the intensity of his gaze. She tried to desperately find her voice, but was saved by the sudden outcry of Sarah, who gasped, "PAPA!"

Sir Erik looked down and felt two small figures grasp his legs, seeing both of his twin daughters holding on tightly to him. Charles then followed suit, throwing his arms around his father's waist, crying his father's name, while Helena, who still seemed shocked by everything she had learned, finally whimpered her father's name, before burying her face against his stomach, and crying as she hugged him tightly. Sir Erik felt a strange emotion boil up within himself, and his arms, which had been gripping the ends of the doorway, began to ache, as he felt the small arms of his children hold tightly to him. But Sir Erik's eyes flew to those of the oldest boy, the boy who seemed to be the very likeness of himself, save for his perfect face. Erik remembered all the events of the night before, the fear that he had experienced at the thought of losing his own son, and the words that Christine had shouted, bubbling up inside his heart. His own fierce golden gaze locked with that of Jacob, and in Jacob's eyes, he saw the struggle, the struggle of a boy who had spent so many years despising his father, and yet who used those angry feelings as a disguise to hide his loneliness and fear.

Jacob looked at the giant masked man before him, his eyes taking in the hidden face that he so often defied and cursed. This was the man who had saved him…for he remembered it clearly now, his father, coming to his rescue, telling Jacob that he believed in his own abilities to swim, but was afraid of losing him. He remembered his father swimming alongside him, his father helping him up the cliff, his father holding him tightly, saying with his actions what words could never fully express…

"Papa!" Jacob cried, the shield of hatred that he held to keep out those feelings of loneliness and disappointment, falling away, and he gave in to the emotions, his tears pouring forth, as he joined his siblings in hugging their father, his face buried against the Black Knight's chest.

Erik had been shocked by it all; he had gone to the door expecting to find one of the servants there, cowering, wondering if he would be having any breakfast, but the last thing he had expected to find was his wife, standing there, with all his children. And before he could even utter a word, he was seized upon by them…and now, as he felt Jacob's arms go around his waist, along with those of his younger offspring, the Black Knight could not hold himself back any longer; he too gave way to the emotions that erupted in his heart, and his powerful, strong arms, the arms that had wielded his great sword, that had slain many enemies, gave way to the strange, longing ache, in which they had been feeling from the moment his children cried his name. He wrapped his arms around the small bodies that held him tight, and tenderly crushed their young frames to him, gasping as his own long hidden emotions burst forth.

Christine had never seen a more amazing, or tender sight in her whole life. She swallowed the tears that she felt rise up in her throat, and watched with a glad heart as Sir Erik and his children embraced one another. Perhaps now, this unusual, but most unique family, could finally become exactly that: a family.

And yet while she smiled at the tender sight, her own heart ached with longing, a longing to know the love which this family was now experiencing; a longing to know what it felt like to belong.

This was a private moment, and Christine suddenly felt as if she were intruding. She didn't say a word, she allowed the children and their father to continue embracing, and quietly turned on her heel to go. Only a few feet away stood Anne, who was still panting from trying to chase after Jacob, but who now stood in awe at the sight before her. "Good gracious, child," Anne murmured as Christine passed her by. "Ye must have been sent from heaven above!"

Christine felt a blush rise to her cheeks, but her brow furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"

Anne smiled tenderly at the young woman and wrapped her arm around Christine's shoulders. "In all my years of serving the Master, I never thought I would see a day when he and those brats would call a truce."

Christine couldn't help but grin. "Not a truce, Anne…peace."

"Peace," Anne whispered, liking the sound of the word. "Aye; and only an angel could have brought such peace to Winterbourne."

Unbeknownst to both women, a pair of golden eyes watched them leave the hallway, and Sir Erik felt his arms only tighten around the children that held him. _Angel indeed_, he thought. Anne was not wrong. And for the first time in the Black Knight's life, the heart that so many people claimed he did not possess, began to beat rapidly.


	16. Loneliness and Longing

**Summery:** The days that pass after the incident in the cave reveal different emotions amongst different people...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Loneliness and Longing_**

Bernard was not happy. He had just received a second message from the King early that morning, informing him of other mysterious incidents that were taking place in small, coastal villages, where dark ships were seen floating dangerously close to abandoned cliffs. The ships were unidentifiable; they flew no flag or coat of arms, and when the King's guards were sent to these seaside villages to find answers, all they received were frightened looks and little information. All likelihood pointed to pirates, but only one pirate in particular had ever put this sort of fear into the hearts of people—but it was impossible that it could be _him_…after all, as Sir Erik had boldly stated, he had killed the Jackal.

Yet no body had ever been found. Sir Erik fought the Jackal on a foggy seaside cliff, and claimed that after he ran the man through with his sword, the pirate plummeted to his death on the jagged rocks below. But the sea had already claimed the body…at least that's what they told the King when they had no body to produce. Bernard shook his head, refusing to believe in ghosts and curses, let alone villainous pirates resurrecting themselves to extract their revenge; if it were pirates, then the most likely answer was that they had no connection to the Jackal, or the Black Knight. It was just some odd coincidence…

At least that was what Bernard forced himself to believe…

Two days had passed since the incident with Sir Erik and his eldest son. Both father and son had recovered quickly, and as of yesterday, the two were seen out of bed and wandering about the castle grounds. News quickly spread about the Black Knight's valiant rescue of young Jacob, and people were beginning to look at their master with news eyes…as well as his children. Indeed, the horrified and angry screams that once filled Winterbourne had been replaced with squeals of playful laughter. Yet nothing was more amazing than the sight that filled the courtyard from the previous day; Charles, Jacob, and Helena, ran out into the courtyard, each holding small wooden swords, each giving a war-like cry to an unseen figure from one of the castle entrances. Servants stopped their chores to see what the elder children were screaming about, and gasped when Sir Erik burst into the courtyard, his two young twin daughters riding his shoulders, crying out happily as their father gave a deep, ferocious growl, at the sight of the other children, before digging their little heels into their father's back, shouting, "GET THE DRAGONS!"

It was perhaps one of the most extraordinary…and strange sights, anyone had ever seen. Sir Erik, the menacing, brooding, and extremely temperamental Black Knight…was playing with his children.

Helena gave a most indignant cry. "We're not dragons, YOU are dragons!" she stomped, her face contorting into a deep pout.

"That's right!" Charles defended, holding up his small wooden sword. "We're the knights! And Helena's a knight too, even if she is a girl—ouch!" he gave his sister a scowl after she pinched his ear.

The twins didn't care, they simply dug their heels into the Black Knight's back and shouted the charge, to which Sir Erik gave another ferocious growl, before descending upon Charles and Helena. The boy and girl gave a cry, turning to run and escape, but their father already had his large, strong arms, wrapped around their small bodies, and was hoisting them up into the air.

"GOT YOU!" Sarah giggled, before planting a small kiss on her father's shaggy black head.

"JACOB!" Charles cried, trying to hold back his own giggles. "HELP US!"

Helena squirmed, but her father only held her tighter. "You're our only hope Jacob! You are the only one who can defeat the dragons!"

Jacob stood his ground, his feet planted firmly in a fighting stance, his wooden sword lifted and ready for the attack should the menacing dark creature, that held both his brother and sister hostage, turn and come after him.

A silence seemed to fall over the courtyard as Erik took in the image of his oldest son, standing prepared, a passionate look of determination alight in his golden eyes. He did not know what exactly possessed him, but ever since the day his children had come to his door and embraced him, Erik had felt the strangest feeling of peace wash over him, and all he could do anymore was laugh and smile…two things he did very, very rarely. His children had demanded that he play with them after their morning meal, and not wishing to disappoint, Erik gave in to their laughter, and allowed his younger daughters to climb up on his shoulders, while he charged at the older ones. Sarah and Sabrina's laughter was infectious, and he found himself growling and snarling like the dragon they were having him pretend to be, which only increased their giggles. Even now, as he held Charles and Helena in his arms, there was still that essence of merriment in the air…yet it was slowly beginning to disappear as he looked at Jacob, who truly looked ready to attack, if given the word.

Erik slowly began to straighten himself, his hold on Charles and Helena loosening. "You know how to use that thing?" he calmly asked his son, his eyes never leaving the boy's face.

Jacob was surprised that his father's words were not patronizing, but rather…filled with interest and curiosity. In the past, if his father had asked him this question, Jacob would have lunged at him, trying to show that he was a man and could take care of himself. But instead, Jacob found himself straightening, and honestly shaking his head, for in truth, he had never handled a real sword, and his knowledge strictly came from observing his father and the other men-at-arms, with theirs.

Erik felt a proud smile crease the corners of his mouth, and he released his hold on the other four children, each moaning with protest, but each watching intently as Sir Erik barked to one of his men-at-arms to bring him Ghost Maker, and a second sword for Jacob. A small crowd began to gather in the courtyard as Sir Erik patiently began teaching both sword-handling and sword-fighting techniques to his eldest son. The other children watched with wide eyes as Jacob followed their father's motions, cheering loudly for their brother when he perfected a move. Jacob could not help but grin up at his father, and Erik felt his chest swell with pride; his son was a quick learner, and in his own opinion, handled a sword far better than many of the King's personal guards.

Bernard had watched with amazement at this transformation. He had known Sir Erik since they were boys, and in all his life, he could not recall a time when he saw the Black Knight smile more. It truly was astounding, seeing this fierce man who always seemed wrapped up in business for king and country, being patient and encouraging with his own children. What had Christine done to them?

Indeed, ever since the young woman set foot on the castle grounds, Winterbourne had been encased in strange tempests of change. In a matter of days, she had gained the children's trust, and now…the children who had spent so much of their time being little hell beasts, were now contentedly behaving and playing with their father. Bernard never believed in witches, but he was beginning to wonder about Christine; she certainly seemed to have cast a spell over the place…

The Black Knight's steward shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips as he continued on his search for his master. Sir Erik had been up before sunrise, according to several servants, and the last anyone had seen of him or the children had been at breakfast. He knew that this urgent news would disrupt the newfound peace that had settled over Winterbourne, and Bernard hated to be the one to deliver the message, but as Sir Erik had once told him, the King's business was _his_ business, and could not wait.

Perhaps Christine knew where Sir Erik and the children could be found? However, that in itself, was another daunting task; the Lady of the castle seemed even more aloof since the change of events at Winterbourne.

* * *

Christine sighed, her arm rising to wipe the sweat from her brow, not caring if she got dirt on her face; it wasn't as if it would matter, she knew she was no beauty. For the last two days, Christine had been hard at work, throwing herself into new tasks, trying to find something to occupy herself with, something that could help her forget about the fact that she was no longer needed…

On the day that she had left the children embracing their father, Christine chose it was time to make herself known to the farmers and tenants that lived on Sir Erik's land, and who graciously delivered gifts of fruit, vegetables, and whatever else they felt was the best bounty their land had produced, as a sign of thanks for the Black Knight's protection. Many of them had heard of the Black Knight's bride, but few had seen her, and Christine felt it was only proper to introduce herself to these kind families that gave so much to Winterbourne.

It had been rather amusing; once they had learned that this small, awkward, young woman was the Lady of Winterbourne Castle, they didn't seem to know how exactly to behave. They were polite, and bowed graciously, saying wonderful things over and over about the Black Knight, but they quickly took notice that Christine's tone of voice, as well as the way she carried herself, was much like their own, and easily found themselves forgetting that this woman, who was dressed in elegant robes but who sounded like a servant, was in fact their new mistress.

The day after that, Christine chose to stay within the castle's grounds, and find some task to occupy her time. She spent the morning exploring Winterbourne Castle in more detail, wanting to learn how to get around the giant fortress without the aid of another; after all, this was her home too, she needed to understand it better. That afternoon, Anne offered to teach Christine how to create a tapestry, a very popular activity amongst ladies of noble birth. Christine agreed to Anne's offer, however, she began to regret it, as her mind quickly clouded with memories of the past, causing her fingers to grow clumsy and ruin what little she had created.

Anne attempted to encourage Christine to not give up the art, but both women were distracted by the sounds of cheering taking place in the courtyard below. Christine looked out the window and gasped as she watched both Jacob and Sir Erik engage in a sword fight. Good Lord! She thought things were better between the two of them? But then she quickly realized, as Sir Erik countered each blow that Jacob brought forth, it was not a fight…but training. The boy was grinning from ear to ear as his father praised him for his work, and instructed him how to swing the weapon better, as well as how to counter the blows by an opponent, as he soon demonstrated. Jacob was a natural; if someone had given the boy a mask to wear, he would look just like his father in that moment.

Christine's eyes traveled to where the other children sat, and felt a smile spread across her face as she watched the small group cheer for their father and brother along with the crowd that had gathered. All day long she had heard the laughter fill the halls and rooms around the castle, and her heart swelled…and broke…with each sound. She was so happy that the children had found happiness and peace with their father, and she was even happier that Sir Erik had finally realized that he needed his children, just as much as they needed him. It filled her with such joy to hear them laughing, or see them playing…and it saddened her to know that the task she had been married to do, had all too quickly come to an end.

Sir Erik wanted her to be a mother to his children, but she knew it was only because he wanted them to be cared for…and he didn't know how to go about doing that himself. Now that she had shown him, she wasn't needed anymore, for she knew that the children truly wanted their father more than a new mother, and while she would do her duty to love them and look after them should he ever be called away, she knew that deep down, she truly was no longer needed.

And it broke her heart, more than she ever thought it was possible.

Christine did not wish to interrupt their happiness; this was their time, and she knew how precious it was. When she was needed, she would be ready, but right now, she would simply stay away, as she knew it was for the best. She would keep herself busy, diving into new tasks, doing her duties as the Lady of the Castle, but she would not interfere in what was not rightfully hers.

Today, Christine chose to spend her time doing what had been her greatest joy when serving the de Coleville's. It had saddened her when Bernard had told her, so many nights ago on their journey to Winterbourne, that the castle had no forests or gardens, but Christine was determined to find a bit of earth on the castle's grounds, and somehow, plant a small rose garden that she would tend and care for. Bernard had not been exaggerating when he had described the land as being a place where few things could grow; the soil was all stiff and rocky, and the closest thing Christine could find as a suitable terrene for roses to grow was in a remote corner of the castle grounds, on the eastern side, near a high stone watchtower that looked out at the coast. Despite Anne's protests, Christine was more than determined to do the work herself, not caring if she got her gown filthy, or if she, herself, were covered with dirt and mud before the day was over. She would have her roses, and somehow, bring something that resembled color, to this gray ashen place.

"So this is where you have been hiding?"

Christine turned her head to see Bernard's wife, Ophelia, smiling at her as she approached. Suddenly, Christine's feelings of indifference towards her appearance disappeared, and she quickly attempted to wipe the dirt off her gown and face, which sadly, only caused it to smear more.

Ophelia didn't say anything about the dirt; she simply smiled and admired the young woman's handiwork. "I found Anne and she told me you were somewhere on the grounds, hoping to plant a garden, I understand?"

Christine felt her cheeks brighten with color and gave a weak smile. "My hopes are beginning to fade, somewhat," she confessed, looking down at the dirt holes that she had managed to dig out of the hard, dry earth. "I had once asked Bernard to describe the land to me, and he had not been wrong about how it was nearly impossible to grow anything here."

Ophelia nodded her head, however her smile did not fade. "It will be hard work, but in the little time I have known you, I know that you are woman who can perform miracles. If you wish for flowers to grow, then I know that it will happen."

Christine blushed to the woman's kind words, but her brow furrowed with confusion. "Miracles? I can barely dig a hole in this earth—"

"I meant with what you have done for Sir Erik and his children," Ophelia quietly explained, her smile tender, causing her eyes to light up with admiration.

Christine blushed again and quickly shook her head. She refused to take any credit for the family's newfound happiness. "I merely did what I was brought here to do," she murmured, not wishing to allow hope to cloud her senses again. "We both know that the children wanted their father's love, not a new mother. I was simply the final straw that drove them all to finally confront one another," she lifted her eyes to Ophelia's and gave a sad smile. "I'm just happy that things have become better, rather than growing worse. The children need their father…and Sir Erik needs them."

Ophelia's pretty smile faded, and the woman gazed down at her new friend with deep concern. "But what about you?" she softly asked. "Bernard told me that if you had not told Sir Erik about Jacob, the boy would have drowned! You are just as much responsible for his life being saved as his lordship. And just as they deserve happiness…so do you," she softly implored, hoping to make the young woman see reason.

Christine fought the tears that were threatening to spill forth, and before she lifted her eyes to meet Ophelia's, she quickly brushed them away, thus smearing more dirt across her cheeks. "I am happy," she lied, before looking up at Ophelia. "I am happy that I could be of some use and do some good."

Ophelia sighed, realizing that it was not her words that her new mistress needed to hear to convince her…but the love of her new family. "You are no longer a servant, my dear, you are Lady Christine von Desslar, mistress of Winterbourne Castle, and wife to Sir Erik von Desslar, the Black Knight," she sighed as she turned to leave the young woman in peace. "And you deserve to be treated as such, from everyone…including yourself."

* * *

Erik surveyed the beach, his eyes dark and clouded, as he recalled the events from a few nights ago when he had plunged into the ocean's rough, cold waters, to rescue his son. That morning, his children longed to go back to the beach, to try and see if they could find any of their possessions which the sea had taken when it invaded their cave. Erik was somewhat reluctant; however he was curious to see this cave that they had been using as a hiding place for so many years. Since he was a boy, he had lived at Winterbourne Castle, and yet he had never known about this cave. What other secrets did his home possess that he was unaware of? It would explain many questions that he had been having over the years…

"Look what I found!" Charles cried, attempting to pull a trunk that the sea had washed up, onto the beach. "We kept supplies in here!"

Jacob quickly rushed over to his brother to help with dragging the trunk, while the twins playfully chased after a few individual toys that were bobbing along the shoreline. Erik turned his head to see where Helena had gone, and found his daughter standing on a rock, looking towards the castle, a sad expression spread across her face.

Erik sighed, knowing exactly what his daughter was thinking.

The day his children had arrived at his chamber, Erik watched with wide eyes as his wife walked away, a part of him yearning to go after her, or at least to call out her name and tell her to stop. But his throat was so filled with emotion from the feeling of his children clutching him tightly, that he dared not speak, let alone move. He spent the rest of the day in the presence of his children, lying in bed while they sat huddled around him, begging him to tell stories of his battles and adventures. They were most intrigued with his stories about fighting pirates and protecting the shorelines from such villains. Jacob begged his father to tell them the story about the Jackal, but that was a story Erik did not wish to dive into…and as his gaze fell to his eldest son and daughter, he knew he had good reason to keep the story hidden.

Anne knew that it would be impossible to get the children to go back to their chambers, so she brought all their meals to them there, and when she came back in the evening to get the little imps in bed and leave their father in peace, she had to hold back the sob that threatened to burst forth as she gazed at the lovely sight of Sir Erik's brood, cuddled around the slumbering giant that was their father.

The next day, from the moment they had woken up, they began playing. Erik had never played with his children, and he didn't know what exactly had come over him, but suddenly, he found himself caught up in their games of make believe, and he chased them all over the castle, until they stumbled outside into the courtyard. From there, Erik saw more of himself in his eldest son than he ever had before, and he immediately became instructor to the boy, teaching him how to properly hold, handle, and use a sword. Erik had never felt such pride, and it moved him to see the respect that Jacob held for him in his son's own golden eyes.

But the merriment was beginning to disappear as night fell. He noticed it first with the girls; something seemed to be bothering them, despite the happy smiles and giggles they shared. At dinner, they chose to eat in the dining hall, and every time the sound of footsteps could be heard, he noticed how the children would straighten up and look towards one of the entrances, before slumping back in their chairs when they saw Anne, or one of the other servants, enter. Erik began to feel exactly what they were feeling, for he found himself also looking around expectantly when he heard the sound of footsteps, and at several instances, he almost rose from his chair…

…but none of those footsteps belonged to Christine.

"Where is Christine?" Helena had asked when Anne placed her plate of food before her.

"Her ladyship is in her chamber," the old woman explained, although there was a hint of sadness to her voice. "She did not look well, so I brought her a bowl of stew and left it in her room."

Erik's brow furrowed at this piece of news, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. "She is ill?" He did not hide the concern in his voice, which perhaps explained why Anne seemed so startled by his question.

"I believe she will be alright, my lord," she softly reassured. "She was in bed, last I saw; probably best to let her sleep."

The children nodded their heads, although Erik could tell that they seemed disappointed, even Jacob. Even he felt disappointed by this news; it seemed as if it had been a lifetime since he had last seen Christine's beautiful blue eyes…

That night, the children agreed to sleep in their beds, so long as their father would tuck them in and tell them at least one more story. Erik did exactly that, although he noticed the melancholy on all their faces.

"Christine sang us a story," Sabrina sighed.

"It had knights in it…" Sarah added.

"And dragons!" Charles exclaimed, a smile lighting up his face at the memory.

"And a fairy princess…" Helena added, somewhat dreamily.

The boys rolled their eyes, but they quickly shared in the sadness that now filled the room; they loved their father's stories, but they missed Christine's songs. Even Jacob, who had not heard about this wonderful song that the others kept talking about, felt a stab of jealousy that he had been left out.

As Erik bid goodnight to his children, Jacob called out to him, a worried expression creasing his young features. "Papa…" he whispered. "I…do you…do you think that Christine hates us?"

Erik was alarmed by these words, but before he could question his son further, Jacob continued. "I don't blame her, if she does," he looked down at his hands. "We were…I…was horrible to her."

Erik felt pain stab at his own heart, knowing that his children weren't the only ones to blame for making Christine's life feel like hell. She had been right, about so many things, and he knew he was guilty for deceiving her. Perhaps it was not too late to make things right? He left the bedchambers of his children, determined to go and see Christine himself, but he found Anne coming down the tower steps, holding a cold bowl of stew in her hands. "Poor thing didn't eat one bite," she sighed sadly. "She's in a deep sleep as we speak; I didn't have the heart to wake her."

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head to the old woman's words. He would wait until morning to speak with her—or so he had hoped. However, when he went downstairs to the dining hall to eat his breakfast, he was pleasantly surprised to see all his children there…but once again disappointed to find no sign of his wife.

The young woman had already had her breakfast, according to Anne, and had set off to take on some mysterious task. Sir Erik frowned at this, wondering what exactly his wife was up to, although he did not believe she would run away again…or at all, he reminded himself, since she hadn't run away the first time.

After they had finished their breakfast, Sarah and Sabrina begged their father, as well as the others, if they could go and see if any of their toys had been spared from the storm. Charles seemed most keen to visit the cave as well, and even Jacob appeared mildly interested; after all, he could show his father how successful he had been with taking care of his siblings when they were on their own. Everyone, save for Helena, appeared eager for this mission.

Now, as he gazed up at his eldest daughter, Erik understood her emotions perhaps better than anyone else, for they were the same emotions he had been fighting his whole life, and which until recently, he had been successful at doing.

It was that feeling that something was missing from his life…

"It's filled with crabs!" Charles cried, upon finally succeeding with opening the trunk. "Our blankets, our candles, even those dried dates we hid in here…they're all gone!"

Helena turned towards her brothers then, a look of disgust written across her face. "Oh who cares about your stupid trunk!" she shouted, surprising the other children by the thunder in her voice. Indeed, even Sir Erik was somewhat shocked by the giant force her small body held. "I'm going to look for Christine!" she added with a stomp of her foot, before turning and heading back up the footpath towards the castle.

Sarah and Sabrina looked at one another, and then up at Helena's retreating figure. Suddenly, the twins were dashing in the direction their sister was heading, each trying desperately to keep up. "A-a-are you r-really g-g-going to l-look for Christine?" they gasped, as they climbed the footpath after her.

Both Charles and Jacob exchanged glances at one another, and then also sprang to their feet, forgetting all about the crab-filled trunk, and chasing after the girls. "Wait for us!" Charles cried, as he and his brother raced up the cliff.

Sir Erik was left standing all by himself on the abandoned beach, amazed at everything that had transpired. He had married Christine for the sole intention of providing his children with a mother, a woman to raise them, discipline them, and give them the attention that he could not. Now, he realized that the thing they needed from Christine was perhaps the same thing he needed...

Love.


	17. Playful Invitation

**Summery:** Christine receives a lovely surprise from the children...but nothing prepares her for the surprise she receives from the Black Knight...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Playful Invitation_**

_"You are no longer a servant, my dear, you are Lady Christine von Desslar, mistress of Winterbourne Castle, and wife to Sir Erik von Desslar, the Black Knight, and you deserve to be treated as such, from everyone…including yourself."_

Christine sat numbly by herself, amongst the holes of dirt she had dug, Ophelia's words still echoing through her head.

All her life, Christine never believed she was meant for anything great, let alone special. Her parents were poor tenants who worked the land for a corrupt nobleman, a man so cruel that she truly believed he had driven both her mother and father to an all too early grave. At the age of 8, Christine was sent to Baron de Coleville, and since that horrible day, she had bled and worked her fingers raw for the beautiful, but spoiled Lady Maria, and her just as beautiful, and twice as spoiled daughter, Carlotta. Christine knew this was the life she was meant to live; she was not meant for grander things, she was not meant to experience comfort of any sort, and she certainly was not meant to be the mistress of a castle, and the wife of the King's favorite knight.

But she was. Somehow, by some miracle, she found herself caught up in her young mistress' scheme, and the man who had come to marry Carlotta had instead, chosen her, even after learning the truth of the situation. Christine knew that it was, of course, because Sir Erik wanted a woman who knew how to work hard, to raise and look after his children, but even if the marriage was not conducted out of any sort of affection…the Black Knight had, in essence, saved her from a life filled with misery.

"I shouldn't complain," Christine softly murmured to herself. She could have anything she wanted; for the first time in her life, she slept in a soft, feather bed, and her blankets were not thin, but deep and luxurious, warm enough to keep out the winter's chill. She had beautiful gowns, she could take a bath whenever she wished, and servants waited upon _her_ now. She would never have to fear of starving, freezing, or even being tossed out on the street. She was the wife of the Black Knight, a man that no one would dare cross, so she believed. She would never have to worry about Philippe and his lecherous hands; the young man was certainly no match for Sir Erik. She truly had everything a woman could wish for…

Except love.

Christine shook her head, knowing she was being foolish. Based on what Christine had seen, few marriages, especially noble ones, were blessed with love. Pierre de Coleville may have some affection for his wife, but she highly doubted that the two loved one another. She remembered guests coming for Christmas and other feasts, men and women of nobility dressed in glorious robes of bright color, their headdresses shimmering with jewels, their faces lit with smiles. But based on what she saw as she served them dinner, there was no love shared amongst these couples…there was hardly any respect! No, the only love Christine had ever witnessed was between her mother and father, and Robert and Meg. The love between her friends brought Christine hope that she may perhaps find a man who would love and cherish her the way Robert loved and cherished Meg. And for a brief moment…Christine had allowed herself to believe in this hope when Sir Erik had insisted upon marrying her…and when she felt him hold her against him on his horse…and when he had kissed her for the first time at the inn, on the way to Winterbourne…

Christine lifted her eyes to the sky and let out a long, shaky sigh. "This is what I asked for," she softly spoke to an unseen face. "I prayed that if You saved him and Jacob, I would gladly go about my days, not yearning for love or affection, but being a dutiful servant to this family…" She closed her eyes and breathed out another shaky breath. "I am thankful, truly, please know that…just…help me, give me the strength that I need to be the dutiful wife and mother that they need, and not allow my own selfish dreams to cloud my—"

"Who are you talking to?"

Christine gasped at the small voice, and her eyes flew to find Helena standing just behind her, the girl's brow furrowed with confusion.

"I…um, that is…" she was somewhat flustered and wondered how much the child had heard.

"Were you talking to your mama?"

Christine was thrown by the child's question, and it was her turn to look confused. "My mother?"

Helena nodded her head, as if it were the most natural thing to ask. "My mama is in heaven, and Anne says heaven is in the sky, so I thought since you were looking up at the sky and talking…maybe you were talking to your mama."

It made sense, Helena's conclusion. But her words suddenly reminded Christine everything that Ophelia had told her about Jacob and Helena's mother, the mysterious mistress with the fiery red hair. Ophelia had mentioned that the woman had "disappeared"; was that truly what had happened? Did Sir Erik tell his two elder children that their mother had died and was in heaven? Or was there something far more sinister at work?

"I sometimes talk to my mama," Helena continued, walking over to where Christine was kneeling to peer down at the ground. "What are you doing?"

Christine shook her head, pushing back her questions about Sir Erik's mistress and focusing more on the girl before her. "I was attempting to make a rose garden," she sighed, wiping a few sweaty strands of brown hair away from her brow. "However, it is proving to be more difficult than I had hoped."

Helena knelt next to Christine and touched the ground. "It feels rough…and it's very hard, like rocks."

Christine smiled at the girl, and found herself softly chuckling. It was the first time she had laughed in what felt like ages. "True," she giggled. "Bernard wasn't wrong when he warned me about the rough terrene of your home."

Helena's head shot up and her golden eyes went wide at Christine's words. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

Christine was surprised by the girl's question, and quickly reached out to brush away a fallen curl from Helena's cheek. "No," she reassured, to which Helena breathed a sigh of relief, before giving a big smile. "It just means I'll have to work extra hard, but I am most determined to bring roses to Winterbourne."

Helena's smile grew all the more. "May I help?" she nearly begged, her eyes bright and wide with excitement at the mention of roses.

Christine couldn't help but grin at the child's eagerness. The sadness that had encased her heart over the last few days began to melt, and a happy, loving warmth, started to fill her senses. _I am mistress of Winterbourne, wife to Sir Erik…and mother to his children. _Christine didn't know anything about any of the children's mothers, and she would never dream about forcing the children to call her "mother"; but she could be that motherly figure for them, doing what she believed a mother should do, and loving them the way a mother should love…

"CHRISTINE!"

Both Christine and Helena lifted their heads at the sound of an exuberant cry. Standing before them were Sarah and Sabrina, each panting for trying to keep up with their sister. The two girls wasted no time, but ran up to where Christine and their older sister knelt, and plopped themselves down on the ground. "What are you doing?" Sarah asked eagerly, while Sabrina poked at the holes in the earth.

"_We're_ planting a rose garden," Helena proudly stated with a lift of her chin.

The twins' eyes widened at the announcement. "Can we help?" they both asked, their voices filled with new found enthusiasm.

"No!" Helena snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "You're too young!"

"Helena…"

The girl bit her lip at the sound of Christine's tone. She slowly lifted her eyes up to the young woman's and saw Christine's disapproval with the way she had spoken with her sisters. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "but they are young! And they could ruin—"

"No one is going to ruin anything," Christine interrupted, placing a soothing hand on Helena's shoulder. "And the more help we have, the faster our garden will grow," she assured, smiling at all three girls who sat around her.

Suddenly, the sound of more feet could be heard, and this time Christine was prepared for the arrival of her new guests. Charles and Jacob came bounding forward, each panting, and each scowling at their older sister. "When someone shouts, 'wait', that means wait!" Jacob grumbled.

Helena simply poked her tongue out at her brother.

"Where have you been all day?" Charles groaned, his question directed at Christine, to which both his older brother and sister swatted him for asking.

Christine bit back the giggle that threatened to come forth, and smiled at the younger boy. "I have been out here, trying to plant a rose garden for Winterbourne, and it has been extremely hard work," she explained, grinning as Charles stepped forth to gaze at what little she had accomplished thus far.

Charles frowned. "All I see are holes—ouch!" he gave Helena a filthy glare in response to the second swat he received. Christine gave Helena a look of warning, to which the young girl shrank back from, however one look into Helena's eyes said, _well he deserved it for his cheek!_

Sabrina knew how Christine would want them to behave, and quickly sat up straight, her hands folded together on her lap, before turning to Charles and asking him, in a very polite tone, "would you like to help us?"

Sarah quickly realized what her sister was doing, and immediately copied her. "It will grow faster if we all help," she added, remembering the words Christine had said.

Charles was slightly intrigued by the idea, although a part him struggled with accepting, wondering if perhaps it was too girly, but before he could answer, he felt Jacob's hand on his shoulder pulling him back from the girls. Christine noticed the gesture, as did the other children, and she bit her lip at the dark expression the older boy wore.

Jacob was the one she knew the least about. The two of them really hadn't had the opportunity to talk, and it was very likely that he still did not trust her, let alone like or respect her. The boy's eyes locked with hers for a long moment, and Christine could feel that the stare was some sort of test; was he daring her to look away? Was he measuring her up? Was he demanding respect? She did not know what his stare meant, but she knew it was very important to match it with her own. _He truly does look so much like his father_, Christine found herself thinking.

Jacob gazed at the woman who his father had married, his brow furrowing as he examined her. When she had arrived at the castle, he was furious; furious that his father had gone out and found someone to saddle upon them, rather than dealing with them himself. She seemed so small, and while she wasn't skinny, she did look as if she would snap in two if enough pressure were applied. He instantly convinced his siblings to make her life a living hell, to force her to leave; that would teach their father. From playing vicious pranks, to calling her horrible names, they tortured her, and he kept waiting…waiting for her to announce that she was leaving, or to demand that his father discipline them, or something! But the last thing he had expected for her to do was…well…fight back.

She had quickly gained the confidence and trust of his younger siblings in a matter of days! She never once went to his father to demand that they apologize to her, and she never once demanded that they be struck or beaten for their insolence, and she never once threatened to leave. It seemed she was determined to stay…and determined to win! And then everything changed the night of the storm. She had gone out in the raging wind and rain, determined to leap to her possible death to save him, and in the end, was able to get his father to come to his rescue. And based on what Helena had told him, Christine had stayed by his side, all through the night. Come morning, Jacob recalled how Christine told him everything that had happened, confirming his beliefs that his father did come to his rescue, that his father…did, in fact, love him. And when he demanded to see the man he had spent so much of his young life hating, she did not hold him back, she did not try to coerce him back to bed, but rather, she led them to his chamber, and then left them to have their moment alone with the brooding Black Knight.

He knew that his siblings had missed Christine's presence, especially by the end of the day before, but Jacob was somewhat grateful for Christine for giving him, and is brother and sisters, these moments where they could be alone with their father. As miraculous as it seemed, Jacob's thoughts of hatred and rage towards the Black Knight had changed, literally, overnight. His father was proud of him; he believed he had potential to be a knight one day! Over the last two days, he learned more about his father than he had over the past 11 years. And that was in thanks to Christine…

He did not know much about this woman…but as he looked into her eyes, two blue orbs that did not blink or glance away from his, he knew that her hope to perhaps become friends…was possible. And he also knew that if he wished to keep his father's respect, as well as become a knight of the realm someday…he had to put things right.

"All of you, up on your feet!" Jacob barked to his younger siblings.

Christine jumped at the boy's tone, seeing more of his father in him by the second. She hadn't been the only one; the girls, who had been kneeling around her, also jumped, and quickly rose to their feet, as their brother had demanded.

"Now stand beside me," he ordered, his tone still dark and menacing, but softer in sound. Christine's face paled as she watched the children obediently follow their brother's instructions, and come to stand beside him, facing her.

Had she failed? Were the past few days all for nothing? She had been so sure that she was gaining the children's trust, and hopefully, their friendship…but was one bark all it took for them to follow whatever their brother said? Did Jacob still despise her? She picked up her skirts, prepared to rise to her feet and do battle with the boy, if need be, when a gentle gesture of his hand stopped her.

Jacob's eyes caught Christine's once more, and he lifted his hand when he realized she was about to rise, the gesture a gentle, and silent way, to tell her that she should remain seated, for she was a lady…at least that's what he assumed the gesture meant, when he observed his father's men-at-arms talking to women.

The boy's gesture had its effect, for Christine found herself settling back down on the ground once more, although her eyes were wide and traveling back and forth between each child's face, before settling once more on Jacob's, wondering what the boy was doing. And then, she received the shock of her life…

"Lady Christine," Jacob addressed, with a most elegant bow. "On behalf of my brother and sisters, as well as myself…I offer up an apology for the horrible way that you were welcomed to Winterbourne Castle."

Christine suddenly realized she had stopped breathing from the amazement of it all.

"As the eldest son of the Black Knight, I am deeply ashamed for the treatment you have received. And I take full responsibility, as I am guilty for encouraging it," he looked down at his feet for a moment out of shame, before quickly lifting his eyes to lock with hers once more. "I pray that you will find it in your heart to forgive us for our cruelty towards you."

Christine let out the breath she had been holding when she realized that Jacob had finished. There was a long pause, and she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Jacob glared at his siblings, who quickly responded, "We're very sorry, Christine."

Christine bit her lip, trying to hold back the giggle that had bubbled up in her throat. In truth, Christine had already forgiven the children ever since the day she started playing that game of "Knights and Dragons", but now, as she gazed at their young faces, and saw the deep sincerity in their eyes, she felt her throat tighten with emotion.

They respected her; they did not see her as an enemy, but as a friend.

"Thank you," she whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder, it would be quite obvious that there were tears in her voice. "And you all have my forgiveness…although I must ask that you, Jacob," she locked eyes with the boy once more, "if you will be so kind as to forgive me, for leaving you in danger in that cave—"

"Let the past remain where it is…and let us learn from it," interrupted a dark voice.

Christine felt her heartbeat quicken as she recognized the deep, mesmerizing chords, of the Black Knight's voice. The other children immediately turned their attention to their father, while Christine took several deep breaths, before finally lifting to her eyes to where he stood.

Both Sir Erik and Christine were struck with an odd sense of familiarity; after all, the two of them had met in a garden, and she, very much like she was right now, had been sitting on the ground, attempting to care for some roses, her small hands covered with dirt. Yet that moment, for some reason, dulled, when compared to this one. Christine was still shaken by the sheer size of the Black Knight, but her body didn't tremble out of fear the way it had upon their first meeting. And Erik, as he gazed down at the woman before him, recalled how surprised he had been at seeing her…but he had never truly taken the time to appreciate the natural beauty she radiated, as he did now.

"We thought you were still down on the beach!" Charles exclaimed, not seeing the intensity shooting between his father and the young woman.

Erik turned his eyes towards his son, and quickly straightened his broad frame even more, as he addressed the children. "I chose to follow…like you, I too was curious as to where Christine had gone…" his voice was so deep; Christine swore she could feel the tremors reverberating through the earth. He caught her eyes once more, and she found herself blushing deeply, before her lashes fluttered against her cheeks in an attempt to look away.

Erik fought the groan that welled up inside his chest at the innocent gesture.

Christine found it so odd to see the Black Knight without his armor. She knew that the last few times when they had spoken, he had not been wearing his armor, but it was still so unusual. Most knights, once removing their armor, would lose some of the width that the mighty metal created. Not so with Sir Erik. The man was a giant, towering over everyone at the castle, his shoulders wide, his chest and back broad, and his arms and legs as thick and round as tree trunks. He only wore a dark gray tunic, over black breeches, and yet it might as well have been armor he was wearing. Arrows looked as though they would simply bounce off his powerful chest, should they strike.

Christine blushed deeply as she realized her eyes had been wandering, and her blush only deepened as she recalled seeing her husband's bare, muscular chest, as well as his naked backside. She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat and quickly returned her eyes back to his, but once more, found her heart beating even faster. Sir Erik was not what a person would describe as "handsome"…his visible features were fierce, with sharp angles, and the skin looked rough and weather-beaten.

And there was also his mask.

Christine had always carried a silent curiosity about her husband's mask; she had asked Bernard why he wore it, and the steward grew incredibly uncomfortable by her question. On the night when he had rescued Jacob, Christine caught sight of the many battle scars that covered Sir Erik's chest and back. Perhaps he had injured his face in war? It was the only explanation Christine could logically think of, and it chilled her to imagine how horrible those scars must be, if Sir Erik felt compelled to hide them behind a mask. And yet, her heart was also moved with pity for the man who seemed to have only known harshness in his life.

Erik noticed the way Christine's eyes lingered on the right side of his face, the side covered by the mask, and he shifted his weight so that his head was slightly turned, only giving her a glimpse of his unmasked cheek. He had killed men for gawking at his face; however, in Christine's presence, he felt unworthy to have her eyes upon him. He did not need to be reminded further that he now resembled the monster so many had called him.

"Christine is planting a rose garden!" Helena proudly stated, her face beaming with a bright grin. "And I'm helping."

"Me too! Me too!" both Sarah and Sabrina cried, not wanting either their sister, or Christine, to leave them out.

Erik cocked his visible dark brow at these words and turned his eyes once more to Christine. "A daunting task, to be sure," he murmured, looking at the earth before her. He knew that it was nearly impossible for anything to grow on the land that his castle occupied…and frankly, he preferred it that way. However, he would not deny his young wife a few pleasures, she deserved that at the very least for all that she had done.

Christine straightened her shoulders, feeling her newfound, stubborn spirit, coming forth once more. "It will be hard, no doubt about that," she replied, her chin lifting with determination. "But it can be done, and it will be. Mark my words, by next spring, there will be roses growing in this very spot."

Erik fought back the chuckle he felt rumbling in his chest. "I have witnessed your capabilities, and I have no doubt that when you set your heart to a task, you will accomplish it…" his eyes locked with hers for a moment, and Christine swore her heart stopped from the intensity of his gaze. "Even now, you wear the signs of battle," he murmured, his eyes moving over her face, which was covered in sweat and dirt.

Christine gasped as she suddenly remembered the dirt that had been smeared across her cheeks and forehead. Good lord in heaven, how she must look to them! She knew she was no beauty, but that didn't mean she wanted to emphasize her dull looks any further, especially in front of him…

The younger children found themselves giggling at the way Christine quickly went about trying to wipe her cheeks clean, but one harsh look from their father stifled their giggles at once. Christine knew it was no use, she was probably only making things worse, so she quickly scrambled to her feet, wiping her dirty hands on the gown she wore, knowing that the fabric was already ruined, and tried to desperately keep her back straight and hold on to some dignity. She was not a vain creature, she did not want them thinking that…she just didn't want to give Sir Erik any further reminders that he had married her, instead of a great beauty like Carlotta.

"Well, I think that's enough gardening for one day," Christine sighed, forcing a smile across her glowing face. Despite the dirt that had been smeared over her features, Erik could still see her blush radiating her face and enhancing the beauty that he saw glowing in her eyes.

Helena pouted slightly at first by this news, but then her face brightened as a thought came to her. "Good!" she cried out happily. "Then you can play with us!"

"Play?" Christine asked, her eyes rising to the Black Knight's, before looking down at the child in front of her. Perhaps Sir Erik had work that needed to be done, and would wish for Christine to take over the task of entertaining his children?

"Yes!" Helena grinned, turning to smile at her siblings. "We can be knights, and the boys can be dragons!"

Both Charles and Jacob began grumbling in protest; they preferred to be knights. Christine couldn't help but smile at the mention of Helena's idea. "I didn't realize you had enjoyed my game that much," she giggled.

Sir Erik felt his body tingle at the sweet sound of the young woman's laughter.

"Why do we have to be dragons?" Charles complained. "I want to be a knight!"

"You were knights last time!" Sarah pouted.

"Yeah! It's OUR turn to be knights!" Sabrina chimed in.

Christine immediately tried to calm the children down as they began arguing over who was going to be what, however the next sound that erupted the air startled everyone, including the man who had spoken.

"I WILL BE THE DRAGON!"

Six pairs of eyes all looked at the Black Knight out of astonishment. Christine couldn't believe her ears! Both she _and_ Sir Erik were going to be playing with the children?

Erik could not believe what he had just said; he had been playing with his children over the last two days, a sight that he knew was foreign to…well…everyone, including himself! However, he hadn't cared what people thought, after all, no one dared to cross him. But now…as he found himself looking at Christine, he realized that he cared very much what _she_ thought of him.

"YOU are going to be the dragon, Papa?" Sarah asked, her voice filled with awe.

"All by yourself?" Sabrina gasped, her green eyes growing wide with disbelief.

Erik turned his attention to his twin daughters and nodded his head. "Yes, if that will keep you all from fighting over who can be knights," he growled, although the children could tell that he wasn't upset, and giggled to his growl, including Christine. The sound of her laughter shot his eyes to hers once more, and Sir Erik swore he felt his chest tighten at the beautiful smile she gave him. Their eyes lingered on one another for a moment, before he finally looked down at all the faces surrounding him. "Well what are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Do knights stand by while dragons roam about?"

"Nay!" they all cried, which was quickly followed by a playful shriek as Sir Erik descended upon his twin daughters, who just barely escaped his great arms by running through his legs.

With a mighty growl, the game was on, and Christine quickly found herself joining the children in laughing and shrieking as the Black Knight (dragon now), chased after them throughout the castle's courtyard. "Hurry Charles! He's gaining on you!" Christine cried when she realized that the younger boy had the Black Dragon at his heels. Jacob ran to his brother's rescue, removing some dates that he had been keeping in the pocket of his tunic, and throwing them at his father's head.

Sir Erik gave a growl, and turned his attention on Jacob. "So you're going to play like that, are you?" the Black Dragon snarled, before giving chase to the older boy.

"Jacob!" Charles cried, realizing what his brother had done for him. He looked across the courtyard and saw Christine. "Christine! We have to save Jacob!"

Christine heard Charles' words and knew the boy was right; knights always helped each other, especially against fearsome, snarling dragons. The older boy's "distraction" technique had been most genius, and Christine knew that if they could find something to throw and draw away the Dragon's attention, Jacob would be able to escape. But what was there to throw?

Then she saw it. A basket filled to the brim with tomatoes, left near the stable doors, no doubt brought by one of the land's tenants, . It was almost too perfect.

Without a moment's hesitation, Christine raced towards the basket, gathering as many tomatoes as her arms could carry. Helena immediately noticed what she was doing, and ran to Christine's side to help. The two of them then quickly, and quietly, climbed atop a small, stone fence, just outside the stables, and waited…waited…until…

"NOW!" Christine shouted, just when Jacob ran past the stables, the Black Dragon directly on his heels. Both she and Helena released their arsenal of tomatoes at the unsuspecting Black Dragon, giggling as he suddenly threw his hands up to shield his head by the endless onslaught, giving Jacob a chance to properly escape.

However, the problem with throwing tomatoes…is that one eventually runs out of tomatoes. This problem became all too clear when both Christine and Helena realized their arms were empty, and the Black Dragon had lifted his head, his eyes burning, his voice growling, and his body, completely covered in a sloppy, red mess. Christine felt her breath catch as she locked eyes with the ferocious dragon, and knew that she was done for now. Sir Erik gave a mighty roar and launched himself at his wife and daughter, both of whom gave shrieks as they turned and ran in opposite directions.

However, it became obvious that the Black Dragon had his sights set on one prey in particular, as he chose to run after Christine. God in heaven, the man was fast! Christine could feel his breath upon the back of her neck! She ran harder, and faster, realizing that her only hope of escape was to hide somewhere in the stables…

She quickly ducked under a stall door, knowing that Sir Erik was too big to go through the small space, and would have find another entrance. She scrambled to the other side, and without a moment's hesitation, climbed up the ladder that led to the hayloft, and dived into a pile of sweet smelling hay, trying to cover her body up as much as possible…

The Black Dragon nearly kicked the stall door down, causing several horses to cry out in alarm. Christine held her breath as she heard him enter her section of the stables, his black boots stomping like thunder as he walked. Would he even think of checking the hayloft? Perhaps he would think she had escaped through a different stall door? She bit back a squeak as she heard his boots stomp on the ladder rungs. He was climbing!

She could hear the Black Dragon's breathing…she could smell the tomato residue that covered his tunic…and she only prayed that he would not hear her heart racing beneath the hay!

Then…she heard the sound of his boots descending the ladder. He was climbing down! She waited, until she was sure she could not hear him any further, and then, slowly, began to rise from her hiding place, wiping the hay from her dress and hair, carefully rising to her feet—

"GOT YOU!"

Christine didn't even have the opportunity to scream, as suddenly, Sir Erik launched himself up the ladder, and caught her in his arms, the two of them falling backwards onto the mountain of hay that had been her hiding place.

"You…how…where…?!?" she gasped, shocked and bewildered that he had caught her by practically flying up the ladder.

Erik growled, and his hold around the woman only tightened. "I have a score to settle with you, madam knight," he snarled, removing one of the many tomatoes that she had hurled at him from his tunic, and hovering it over her own head.

Christine shrunk back even deeper into the hay, her eyes never leaving the tomato. "Mercy! I pray for mercy!" she gasped, although there were still hints of amusement in her voice. She closed her eyes, certain that the next thing she would feel would be a tomato, smeared across her face…

But nothing happened.

Christine opened her eyes and felt her breath catch as she realized how very close both she, and Sir Erik, were. When he had flown up the ladder and caught her, they had both fallen back against the hay, and he quickly covered her body with his own, trapping her under his mighty weight. She had realized how close their faces were to one another…and she wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating as she found herself lost in the intensity of his golden eyes.

He could probably feel her heart beat against his chest; they were so close. Their bodies, their arms, their lips…

This was the closest they had ever been together. Erik remembered how wonderful it felt, feeling her body pressed against his when they rode his horse. And he remembered how small, and how perfect, she felt in his arms, when he had caught her after she fainted at Baron de Coleville's home. And every night, he had dreamt of her lips…her sweet, intoxicating mouth, which he had been longing with a fierce passion to taste again…

Her breasts were pressed deliciously against his chest. Her small, sweet frame was locked beneath his body, and her beautiful, soft face…was mere inches from his own. He had married her because he needed to provide the children with a mother; this was never about himself…

_Hell and damnation!_

A gasp was the last thing that escaped Christine's lips before Sir Erik's mouth descended upon hers.


	18. Passionate Awakening

**Summery:** Sir Erik and Christine are given their first taste of passion...but there is a something that threatens to drive them apart!

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Passionate Awakening_**

Sir Erik was not a stranger to kissing women.

Beatrice had been the first woman he had ever kissed, and later, the first women he had ever laid with. He remembered Beatrice's kisses to be breathtaking, mainly because she robbed him of his breath. Beatrice had a most passionate spirit, one that caused her to be aggressive whenever they kissed. In the beginning, Erik believed himself to be lucky, that the beautiful woman with the fiery red hair loved him, and couldn't get enough of him. He sadly learned that it was not that, but simply her need to have power, that drove her kisses to be so fierce.

There had been other women, but those kisses were never sweet; either he had paid for them, or they yearned to have something of his, but the kisses were never sweet, never innocent, and never beautiful.

Not like Christine's kisses…

He thought he would die the moment he heard her pleasured moan escape her lips, and reverberate in his mouth. He groaned as he felt her sweet, pink tongue, innocently come forward, to taste his, which her mouth had so graciously granted him access.

God almighty! His whole life he had doubted in the existence of heaven, but now, Erik knew he had truly found paradise.

Christine was still in shock from everything that was happening. One moment she was playing a game with the children, the next she was in Sir Erik's arms, in a hayloft of all places! She had been under the spell of his eyes, and she swore that time had stopped the second she felt his lips, soft and warm, cover her own. She was convinced that his lips were the only soft thing about him…and a blush rose in her cheeks as she felt his hard body move against hers in a way that caused her own body to tremble.

She gave in to his kiss; in truth, she had been thinking about the two kisses they had shared for the last few nights. His kiss to her in the inn had been surprising and hard. Her kiss to him, when he was lying on the cliff and ready to pass out, had been fearful and desperate. But the kiss they were sharing now was so different from those other kisses; they were both giving in to the passion that had been eating away at them for days. Sir Erik may have initiated the kiss, but Christine could not help but eagerly respond. She found she loved the way his mouth tasted, the pressure of his lips, the dance of his tongue. She wanted more, and her hands went to his head, and her fingers sunk into his shaggy black mane. It seemed she had found another portion of her husband's body that was also soft.

Erik felt a primal growl rumble in his chest as he felt her tiny fingers lace in his hair. She was pulling him closer! He could not believe how she was responding, how her mouth was eagerly kissing him back, how her untrained lips had suddenly grown in confidence with her kiss. His own hands began to move then, one rising to thread his own, large fingers, into the soft brown strands of her hair, while the other trailed down her side until it came in contact with her hip. Christine's lips broke away from his, only momentarily, to allow a gasp to escape at the touch of his hand. Erik could not help but grin, and immediately kissed her again, capturing what was left of her gasp for himself.

Christine felt intense heat course through her body at Sir Erik's touch. She had felt her body tingle and shiver when the two of them had touched in the past, but it was nothing like this! She was very much aware that his intense size covered every inch of her, and the feeling, she had to admit, was extremely delicious. She had thought she would be frightened; after all, he was such a giant! But instead, she found she loved the feel of his broad, hard body, covering hers, and when she felt his hands begin to caress her curves, she surprised them both by lifting her body, as if by instinct, and purposefully trying to mold it to his.

It was Erik's turn to break the kiss, to allow his own moan to escape, as he felt Christine's body arch against his own. His hand was sliding from her hip, down the length of her thigh, and back up again. He could feel the heat radiating off her, and he fought the urge to tear her skirt and imbed his arousal in the dewy heat that lay between her legs. He knew he was a monster, and too many people feared him…he would not have his own wife fear him as well!

Erik's kisses began to descend from her lips, and Christine's ragged breathing came out in great gasps as she felt her husband's lips move across her cheek, down her jaw, over her chin, and she purred at the feel of them on her throat. Her fingers, which had been locked in his hair, began to grow bold as well, moving down from his head, across his mighty broad shoulders, squeezing the muscles there.

Erik growled against her throat as he felt her fingers explore his back, and he began to imagine her small, sweet fingers, exploring much more of his body. The image alone caused his arousal to thicken with desire, and he groaned with pleasure as he heard Christine mew in his ear, when he gently bit her neck.

The bite shocked her, but she melted even further against his mouth, feeling her body go limp as his lips expertly ravished her flesh. Was this actually happening? Was this dark warrior, this brooding knight who had rescued her from the de Coleville's, actually going to…to fulfill his marriage vows? This was nothing like she had imagined! They were in a hayloft, it was broad daylight, she could hear people walking around outside! And yet, Christine knew in that very moment, that she wanted this. She wanted to be his wife, in every sense, she wanted to give her body to him, she wanted to know what it felt like to be with a man—no, she wanted to know what it felt like for a _wife_ to be with her _husband_.

A sharp gasp escaped her throat as Christine felt one of Sir Erik's large hands cup the panting mound that was her right breast. Erik lifted his eyes from where his tongue had been tasting the flesh of her neck, and grinned at the way her beautiful eyes fluttered back as his fingers softly squeezed the delicious mound. Her breasts, while small, appeared to be most sensitive, for every time his fingers squeezed, Christine's body would tremble, and a pleasured moan would escape her lips. Nothing, he was convinced, was a more beautiful sound. Her breast swelled in the palm of his hand, and Erik's mouth began to water as he felt the hard bud of her nipple strain against the fabric of her gown, desperate to feel his fingers brush its surface. He could not contain himself, his desire was too great and his loins were on fire! He gripped the collar of Christine's gown, and tugged, until her right breast sprang free from its fabric cage.

Christine's eyes flew open as she felt Sir Erik's hand pull her gown down to reveal one of her breasts to his hungry gaze. Her first instinct was to cover herself, but her husband immediately caught hold of her arms and held them to her side. He looked into her eyes and saw her passion, her anticipation, and her innocent shyness…but, much to his relief, he did not see fear. Slowly, he released his hold on her arms, convinced that she would not cover the beauty that lay before him, and with great gentleness, lifted his lips to brush over hers, thanking her, in his kiss, for giving him such a lovely gift.

Christine moaned against his mouth as his tongue tangled with hers once more, and her body went still as she suddenly felt his fingers cup the bare flesh of her breast. His kiss only deepened, and Christine slowly felt her body relax to his touch as his fingers gave her breast a gentle squeeze, before allowing his thumb to brush over her nipple. A tremble shot through her body, from top of her head, to the tips of her toes, and a strange ache began to increase more and more, between her thighs. Sir Erik's mouth began to descend once more, his teeth leaving sweet bites along the flesh of her neck, before kissing her throat, her collar bone, the rise of her breast, before finally…closing over her nipple, and sucking it deep into his mouth.

Christine swore she had died in that moment. Her body arched upward, and Sir Erik caught her in the arch, his hands going around her body, pressing against her back, lifting her to his hungry mouth, as he greedily suckled her breast with wild abandon.

"Oh God!" Christine cried out, her hands clutching his head to her breast, as he growled against her flesh and continued his loving assault. Never! Never had she ever imagined anything like this! She could not describe the feeling; the way her body trembled, the heat that was rising to her skin and within the core of her body, the immense pleasure that his mouth was afflicting upon her! It was too much…and yet, she could not get enough.

Erik was on fire! The whimpers, the moans, the pleasured mews that escaped his wife's lips were going to be his undoing. Her lips were so sweet, so intoxicating, and much to his happiness, so was the rest of her! Her breasts were delicious; he could easily imagine himself spending an entire night with her wrapped in his arms, suckling at her breast until the sun rose in the east. The erotic thought caused him to groan, and he began imagining how delicious the rest of her sweet body would taste…

God almighty, he couldn't take this much longer! His body was screaming for release, he could feel the flames of passion eating away at him, consuming him, killing him! His hand lowered to find the hem of her gown, desperate to lift the fabric, desperate to touch the rest of her, desperate to find the release that he knew they both needed—

"RELEASE HER, MONSTER!"

Erik swore at the sound of a child's voice, and tore himself away from the delicious feast before him, his body flattening against Christine's, so that no one could see what the two of them had been doing.

Christine's eyes flew open at the sound of the child's voice, and a deep red blush, covered her entire face and body. Good God, had they been seen? She looked up at Sir Erik, her eyes wide with embarrassment for being caught, but desperate to know if her husband had regrets. Reality had come crashing back to their world, and her greatest fear was to see him looking down at her, her face still covered with dirt from her attempt at gardening, and remember why he had chosen to not make her his wife in every sense. She was no beauty, this Christine knew…but in those sweet moments when he had been kissing her, he had made her believe that she was…

"I see you up there!" Charles declared, lifting his small wooden sword in a threatening manner. "Release her, Dragon…or taste the wrath of my blade!"

Erik had never once lifted a hand against his children, but in that moment, he found it took every ounce of willpower he contained, to not leap down and throttle the boy.

"Charles! Did you find them?"

Erik groaned as he heard more voices, and then the sound of children running, echoed all around them, as the others invaded the stables. Without a word or glance, he slowly began to lift himself up off Christine, his hands helping to right her dress, his large body still providing her with protection for modesty's sake. But he avoided her eyes as much as possible. The spell had been broken, and once more, he was the monster that so many claimed him to be.

"We are here, Christine!" Helena's voice filled the stables. "We have come to rescue you from the dark dragon!"

Christine's heart broke as she realized Sir Erik was avoiding her eyes; did he feel shame for what they had just shared? Perhaps she had been too wanton? She couldn't help losing her senses to the passion that was fusing between them, it was the most wonderful, the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced. She wanted it to continue, she didn't want this chance encounter to be their last…but what if it wasn't what he wanted?

"What's happening?" Sarah cried, the last of the five siblings to enter.

"The dragon attacked Christine!" Sabrina quickly explained.

"I saved her," Charles said proudly. "The dragon was going to devour her, but I stopped him just in time."

Erik couldn't help the growl that escaped his lips, however it was not a growl of amusement. His son was right, however, it was most unfortunate.

Jacob tried to peer up into the hayloft. "Come down at once, villain! And surrender to the knights of the realm!"

All the children gasped when Sir Erik leapt down from the hayloft, avoiding the ladder altogether, landing with a great thunderous bang, on the stable floor. He rose to his full height and glared at the young knights before him. Christine bit her lip as she watched him stand before the children, and prayed that all the progress that had been made thus far was not about to be abandoned due to the annoying interruption.

The children looked up at the Black Knight warily, the younger ones wearing expressions of uneasiness as his fierce gaze swept over all of them. Then, without another word, he knelt down before them, and lowered his head in a gesture of defeat. "I surrender, great knights. You have bested me."

Suddenly, the dreaded silence erupted into joyful cheers, as the children began to dance around their defeated enemy. Sir Erik tried to smile as he felt his youngest daughters hug him tightly, but his mind was lost on other thoughts. He glanced to his left and watched as Christine slowly descended the ladder, her legs still shaking after everything she had experienced. Jacob rushed over the ladder and offered Christine his hand to help her down. He grinned up at her, looking most proud for their victory over the dragon. "You have been rescued, milady," he said with an elegant bow. Christine forced a smile and gave a polite curtsy back, however she had to admit to herself, she rather liked being the dragon's prisoner. She glanced towards her husband then, and the two of them caught one another's eyes. She wanted to tell him she loved the way he touched her, she longed to feel his hands and lips upon her flesh once more, and while she blushed deeply at the thought, she wanted to tell him she yearned to give her virginity to him, and become one with her husband.

Erik's eyes were so unreadable; that fierce golden gaze bore into her, but Christine was at a loss as to understand what he was thinking. Fear gripped her then, and her hands immediately flew to her face, as she imagined how horrible she must look, covered in dirt, hay sticking out of her hair, her dress disheveled—

"My lord?"

The children's joyful cheering came to a sudden pause as Bernard's voice filled the stable. Erik tore his eyes from his wife and focused them on his steward. Erik had been holding his breath, wondering what Christine was thinking, whether she was regretting what had transpired between them. She was such an innocent, and so beautiful. She had not seen his face, and if he had anything to do with it, never would, but whether he wore a mask or not, he knew that he would always be a monster.

He was torn; a part of him yearned to take the young woman in his arms, carry her off to his chamber, and lose himself in her beauty, her innocence, and her purity. The other part of him told him to never even think of touching her again; his murderous hands that had killed so many were not meant to touch angels…

"My lord?"

Erik shook his head, his focus returning to Bernard. "What?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He could feel a foul mood coming on…

Bernard took a step back, but squared his shoulders, knowing he had a duty to perform for the King. "I have been searching for you all day, my lord. I bring an urgent message from his majesty," he held the small scroll out to his master, the scroll which ordered the Black Knight to put an end to these pirate activities.

Erik took the scroll and quickly began to read the summons. His eyes narrowed at the message, and he silently cursed both his king and the pirates, for tearing him away from this newfound peace he had so recently discovered. He knew that his warring days were not yet finished, and he cursed himself for believing that this peace would last. Christine's face contorted with worry, as she watched Sir Erik crumple the scroll in his hands.

"Get my horse," he growled to Bernard, "and order my men to make ready. We must travel to Valmour with our colors held high."

Bernard nodded, before bowing his head. "Aye, my lord."

Erik turned to face his children, and felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over his head; the faces that greeted him held no warmth or affection.

"You're going away…" Helena whispered, her own golden eyes locking with her father's. Her words were not a question, but a statement.

Sir Erik lifted his chin just slightly, but let out a breath of defeat. He could not shield his heart to the pain that he saw in his daughter's eyes, not anymore. "Aye," he murmured. "The King has summoned me to Valmour; it is believed that pirates are harassing the villagers."

Christine's eyes widened at the Black Knight's words. Pirates? She had heard about such villains in stories that were shared by guests of Baron de Coleville, and she recalled how those tales chilled her blood. Pirates raided houses, they stole precious artifacts, they killed in cold-blood…and she didn't even want to think of the atrocities they performed against women…

"How long will you be away _this_ time?" Charles asked, his lips pressed together to keep himself from showing the tears that threatened his brown eyes.

Sir Erik flinched at the boy's question. This was the danger of letting one's guard down; it opened your heart to so many inflictions…

He looked up at Christine, and he swore he felt his breath escape his chest at the intense emotion he saw in her blue eyes. "Not long," he vowed, more to himself than to his son.

Charles bit his lip at these words, and the twins began weeping. Helena folded her arms across her chest, and without another word or glance, walked out of the stables, her shoulder purposefully brushing his body, the gesture being one filled with anger. Erik lifted his eyes to Jacob, expecting to see a similar hatred, but instead, found the boy's eyes glowing with curiosity. "May I join you?" he asked, hope filled in his voice as he stood before the Black Knight. His father had praised him for being a fast learner when it came to handling a sword; perhaps he would welcome him amongst the other knights?

Erik felt his chest swell with pride for his oldest son, but lowered his eyes to the ground. "Nay," he murmured, but quickly reached out to hold the boy's shoulders. "I need you to stay here, to protect your brother and sisters and…" he glanced up at Christine, the young woman's face growing paler and paler. "…and Lady Christine," he turned his glance back to the boy. "I would trust no one else with this task…not even Bernard."

Jacob tried to hide his disappointment at his father's words. He knew that his father was not rejecting him, nor doubting his abilities, but he also knew that asking him to stay behind and protect the others was an excuse to see that he not be hurt. Jacob sighed, and then lifted his eyes to those of the Black Knight's, before nodding his head with understanding.

Erik smiled down at his son, feeling such pride for the boy. He turned towards his younger children, and felt his heart swell with sadness. It was only going to be a short journey; Valmour was not so far away. Three days at most, to inspect the caves and talk to the villagers, to confirm whether there were pirates in the area. He would be back soon, there was no need for this sadness, it wasn't like before, when he had gone off to war and did not return for months or years.

So why was it so much more painful now? He looked up at Christine once more, and felt his chest tighten. _Because I had no idea then, what I was leaving behind…_

Christine's eyes widened with horror as she watched Erik turn and head towards the castle. She picked up her skirts, and without looking at the children, rushed after him, having to practically run to keep up with his long strides.

"What do you mean by 'not long'?" she breathlessly asked, as she followed him inside the castle.

Erik did not stop nor turn to face her, he simply climbed the steps that would lead him to his chamber where his armor lay. "I mean exactly that," he growled. "With any luck, this whole business will be sorted before the week is through."

Christine froze at the sound of his words. A week? It had been a week since she had met Sir Erik, since she had come to Winterbourne…and now she had to face a week without his presence? She swallowed the painful lump in her throat and continued chasing him.

"You said something about pirates; have pirates been known to invade the countryside?" she wasn't sure she wanted to hear that answer.

Erik's jaw clenched at her question, and his eyes burned even darker than before. "Not for a very long time," he growled, his voice so deep that the stones beneath their feet seemed to rumble at the sound.

Christine could tell he was determined, and she knew it wasn't the time to talk about everything that had just transpired between them, but she had to at least let it be known that…

That what? That she cared for him? That she would miss him? That she loved—

She stopped where she was, the strange realization washing over her like a rainstorm. Did she love him? She barely knew him! Yes, she had wanted to feel love, she yearned to know what love felt like, to experience the sort of love that Meg and Robert felt for one another, but truly, did she love this man, this fearsome giant who was cloaked in mystery and who caused her heart to ache and her body to tremble?

Yes.

It was true, and she didn't know how to explain it, but…she truly believed that she was falling in love with him…

Erik seemed to notice that her light, hurried steps, had stopped, and he turned to look over his shoulder, and saw her standing there, frozen in place, her small figure trembling as she looked up at him with wide, worried eyes.

"You…" she swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "You will be careful…won't you?" she whispered, biting her lip as her arms wrapped around her body to keep it from shaking.

Sir Erik began to walk towards her, until he was standing just a few inches away. He was so close; he could smell the sweet hay that perfumed her hair. "Why?" he questioned, his voice deep and rich, his eyes penetrating hers as his hands ached to touch her face. "Do you worry for me?"

There was something in his question that Christine couldn't quite understand, something in the tone of his voice. His eyes were so mesmerizing, Christine knew that they would always take her breath away, especially when he looked at her the way he was looking at her now. Time seemed to have frozen, as they stood there, gazing at one another, and finally, Christine took a deep breath, before placing the palms of her hands on his chest, a gesture that sent a jolt through Sir Erik's body. "Just…return to us, safely…and soon," she murmured, before lifting herself up on her tiptoes, and brushing her lips against his masked cheek.

Erik thought he would die at the sweetness of her gesture. He couldn't move, and he realized he hadn't been breathing, until Christine turned from him and began walking back, her head hanging low and…was she crying? Was it possible that this maiden, this beauty, this angel…desired him? Cared for him? Was it possible for her to…to love him?

Resolve suddenly settled over the Black Knight. He would travel with the speed of thunder to Valmour and do his duty for king and country, before returning home with haste to the family he was leaving behind.

And then…then he would truly make Christine his wife.


	19. Uninvited Guest

**Summery:** Time apart has been most trying for Sir Erik and Christine. However, Christine learns a shocking secret, when a mysterious stranger arrives at the castle...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Uninvited Guest_**

"_My lord! Oh thank goodness you are home!"_

_Erik quickly dismounted his horse and flew to where Anne stood, the old woman gasping for breath as she had flown down from his chamber once she heard he and his men had returned._

"_How is she?" he demanded, his voice deep and menacing, but it also held a desperate tone. _

_Anne gripped the Black Knight's arm to balance herself as she took in deep breaths. "She…she is doing as well…as well as a woman can do…in such a state…" she panted, her old eyes flying to Sir Erik's. "It will be any moment, now…"_

_Erik didn't waste any time, he flew from where Anne stood, not even bothering to wait for the old woman to follow, but raced inside the castle, taking the steps two at a time, until he stood just outside his chamber door, fully prepared to burst in—_

_All thoughts escaped, and the Black Knight stood frozen in place…when the sound of a baby crying, filled his ears._

_With a tentative hand, Erik pushed the door open, his body tense, and every muscle rigid…as his eyes adjusted to the sight before him._

_Several maids were bustling about, carrying large bowls and pans, some filled with hot water, others filled with blood. There were bloody rags strewn across the floor, reminding him of the battlefields that he had so recently returned from. But the sight that caught Sir Erik's…was the tiny, crying bundle, which lay within one of the maidservant's arms._

_The maids looked up, each gasping as they gazed at their lord and master. One maid leaned over to whisper into the ear of the child's mother that he had returned. The lady in the bed didn't say a word; she looked as if she had already fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep. He would talk with her later; right now, all he could focus on was the crying babe that the oldest maidservant held. _

"_My lord…" the woman murmured, before handing the child to him. "You have a son."_

"My lord?"

Sir Erik's eyes flew open, and he jolted himself upright. He had not realized that he had fallen asleep. He had been leaning back in a chair, at the inn where many of his men were lodging. They had been in the village of Valmour for three days, and they were not having much luck. Sir Erik had assumed that once they had arrived with his banners held high, the villagers would more or less fall upon their knees, thanking God for delivering them, and tell both he and his men, everything about their mysterious sea visitors.

He was gravely mistaken.

The village looked abandoned, and when one of his men attempted to speak with someone, the most common response was a slammed door in the face. Sir Erik felt his muscles tense; something was obviously terrorizing the people of Valmour, and whatever it was…it had gripped them with so much fear, that not even the presence of the Black Knight seemed to calm them.

And yet, neither he nor any of his men had seen anything since their arrival. Despite the hostility that they had been met with, there was no abnormal activity going on, no signs of mysterious ships or late-night travelers wandering about the cliffs. And as for the caves that were located around these cliffs, Sir Erik found no signs of anything being hoarded there.

It was as if ghosts were haunting the village of Valmour, a thought that only caused the Black Knight to grip the hilt of his sword all the tighter.

"Beg your pardon, my lord, I did not mean to disturb you, but it is time for our shift at the cliffs."

Erik looked up from his chair to find Bernard speaking to him. There seemed to be a slight worried expression on his steward's face, and if Erik were correct, he knew exactly why the man wore it. "Then let's be off," he growled, rising from his chair. As the two of the exited the inn, Erik caught sight of the innkeeper, who was standing beside his wife, both of who were looking uneasy.

Erik narrowed his eyes as he watched the two whisper something to one another. When he and his men had arrived three days ago, the innkeeper made it quite obvious that he did not want them there, however the man knew he had no choice; no one wanted to face the Black Knight's wrath. Yet as he watched this hushed exchange between husband and wife, a suspicious feeling began to manifest within Sir Erik's heart.

"Perhaps there is no activity, perhaps it has all been a mistake?" Bernard murmured as he went to mount his horse.

Erik turned his eyes towards the village, taking in the fact that the few people who did wander its streets, were trying very hard not to look at them. "Something is amiss…" he growled to himself, as he mounted his giant black horse. "Our cold welcome indicates that much."

Bernard quickly turned his horse to follow that of his master's. "But we've seen no ships, and those caves are empty. What evidence do we have that this place truly is being terrorized by pirates?" he sighed and found his eyes gazing off to the south. "Perhaps it is us that the villagers fear."

That thought hadn't escaped the Black Knight's mind, however he knew it was something far deeper than that. Truly, some sort of fear had gripped this village…but what? There was only one other instance in his life where Erik had seen people react as they were now…and he refused to believe that _that_, was possible.

"My lord…I know that you do wish to think of such things, but—"

"He's _dead_, Bernard. I killed him with my own sword, and I watched him fall."

"But a body was never found—"

"He's DEAD!" Sir Erik nearly roared, causing Bernard's horse to jolt from the sound. One look at the Black Knight's masked face, and Bernard knew better than to bring the issue back up.

"How is it with Lady Christine?" he asked, wisely changing the subject.

Erik's grip on his horse's reigns only tightened at the mention of his wife. For three, long, agonizing nights, he had slept in a scratchy straw bed that felt far too cold. He had not yet shared his bed with Christine, but after the incident in the hayloft, he could only imagine the warmth her body would bring.

The last few days and nights had been fitful ones for Erik; his dreams would be a strange combination of fantasy and nightmare. He would relive those heavenly moments in Christine's arms, sometimes replaying exactly how it had happened, other times going further as he had yearned. But a nightmare always found a way to invade; sometimes it was an old battle, sometimes it was the Jackal, and he even dreamt about that horrible day his face had been scarred. But the worst dream had been the one when he had been kissing Christine, and she was deliciously mewing and writhing beneath him…and then, much to his horror, she transformed into Beatrice.

"My lord?"

"She is well," Erik growled, Bernard's question waking him from his thoughts.

Bernard eyed his master warily. While Sir Erik had never gone into detail about the intentions of his marriage, it did not take long for Bernard to understand what they were. When the King had sent the summons to go to the house of Pierre de Coleville, all Bernard knew was that the girl was a great beauty, and only 16. When he first glimpsed Christine, Bernard thought she was pretty, but she did not fulfill the description of the ravishing beauty that the King's summons declared. Her beauty was more natural, simple, and innocent. In many ways, Christine reminded him of Ophelia; her nature was sweet, her smile kind, and hidden deep within her heart laid an independent, and courageous spirit. The more he got to know her, the more he found himself believing that she truly would make the ideal wife for his master and friend. Bernard remembered the others, how they were all manipulative or greedy…or both. Sir Erik had been wounded deeply by their pretty smiles, and lying eyes. And after that most…_recent_…incident, Bernard was certain that his friend would never trust another woman ever again. So when the Black Knight announced his intentions to marry Carlotta de Coleville, Bernard assumed his master was drunk!

But Sir Erik never got drunk; he was quite serious, and so away to Pierre de Coleville's they went. And instead of Carlotta de Coleville, the Black Knight took her servant girl for his wife, and Bernard truly felt his heart soar for his friend, for he wished that Erik could know the blessing of love, just has he knew it with Ophelia. But alas…it seemed that the only purpose for marriage had been to give the children a mother. However, as Ophelia had told him, and as he had seen, Christine truly was becoming the mother that they so desperately needed.

"The children seem to enjoy her company," Bernard murmured to himself, although he hoped his master heard every word.

Sir Erik did, and he made a grunting sound of understanding. The children were enjoying Christine's company, and it seemed that she enjoyed theirs. Erik still remembered that first meeting between his children and Christine; it seemed that all was doomed. Yet somehow…she was beginning to grow a steady friendship with them, even Jacob. And somehow, by some miracle…she did something that made them yearn to be with _him_. They hated him! They despised him! They never paid any attention to his orders, they always caused trouble, and not once, did they ever bat an eyelash to his roars. But somehow…through her magic…everything had changed.

"I must say, my lord, I can not remember a time when I saw them happier…" Bernard continued.

_Neither can I_, Erik thought to himself.

"And you seem to be more at ease," Bernard added, his eyes never leaving the profile of the Black Knight. "It's as if Lady Christine has brought some sort of…peaceful cloud, to settle over Winterbourne."

"Indeed," Sir Erik growled, his eyes focused on the coastline ahead, but his thoughts were far away. He had married Christine for a purpose, but he had never intended to make her his wife…at least not in the way that most husbands knew their wives. It had seemed so perfect at the time; she knew what hard work was, she had a gentle and caring spirit, and upon first glance, she was plain. He had a will and a resolve as hard as any blade, and he was confident that he could keep his personal desires in check…

But that was proving to be more difficult than he had assumed. The more time he spent in Christine's presence, the more he saw her beauty. No rags on her body or dirt on her face could hide the natural beauty that radiated off her, and upon arriving at his castle, the meek servant girl was no more; she possessed a spirit that ignited his heart, and had shown it several times, even to the point of humiliating him in front of the entire castle…which he knew, he rightly deserved. And now, after everything that had happened, after seeing her strength, her courage, her compassion, and after tasting the sweet delights of her lips and skin…he knew he was lost. Had they not been interrupted, he would have taken her then and there in that hayloft. The desires that had been eating away at his flesh were kindled ten-fold, and he could still recall the strange warmth that flooded his heart when had overheard her singing to his children.

It had been many, many years since he had felt anything like this…and yet, this feeling was also different. Perhaps it was simply because…she was, in fact…Christine. Christine, who he trusted his children to, who he trusted his home with, who he trusted to share his name and keep her vows…

But did he…could he…trust her with his heart?

"The King will demand an answer soon," Bernard murmured, interrupting Sir Erik's thoughts. "He has given us the order to search this place and learn what we can, but his patience will grow thin if he does not receive our answer within the next few days."

Erik nodded his head, although it frustrated him greatly that he had not been able to learn the mysterious secret that was plaguing Valmour. He wanted to rip the village apart and find out what the people were so terrified to reveal, to know what sort of fear drove them that they could not put their faith and trust in the Black Knight? Surely he was ten times more menacing than any pirates? His reputation preceded him…

"One more day," Sir Erik growled, his eyes narrowing into golden slits of fire as he scanned the horizon for any mysterious ships. "We shall stay but one more day in this cursed place, before returning to Winterboune to give the King an answer."

Bernard nodded his head. "With your permission, I could have a few of the men stay behind, to keep us posted if there is any activity."

Erik nodded his head. "Aye…perhaps these cowards will come out of hiding once I disappear…"

He did not like the thought of leaving a task unfinished. There was something that was terrorizing the village, he could feel it in his bones, but he could not help them if they were not willing to help him. He would make a show of leaving, while allowing some of his better spies to stay behind and keep watch. He would rather be the one to face the villains, to put an end to their treachery with his own sword, but he could not deny, that a part of him longed to return to Winterbourne with great haste.

It was not his imagination; she was willingly giving her body to him when he had last kissed her. Was it possible that this beautiful angel craved his touch as much as he craved hers?

Yes. And by God, he wanted to make her his, in every way.

Damn his original intentions! When he first met her, he saw the good that she would do for his children; he just never thought of the good that she could do for himself…

_I may regret it later, but she is well worth any regret…_

* * *

"I hate him!"

Christine looked up from her work at the redheaded child that was kneeling next to her. For the last few days, Christine had made herself busy with her garden project, encouraging the other children to help her, hoping that the task would ease their melancholy. Helena's anger, however, remained unchanged.

"This is just like all those other times," she pouted. "He would leave, and not come back for…for years!"

Helena's words struck Christine, causing a sense of foreboding to wash over her. "Your father will be returning very soon, and you should not say such things," Christine softly scolded. "He must obey the King's commands."

Helena shook her head, her face contorting into a bigger frown. "I thought he changed, but he hasn't! It's just like all those other times, he'd rather be away fighting some war, than being here with us—"

"He loves you," Christine interrupted, her voice quite firm and resolute. "And you know that, Helena, or have you chosen to forget the games he played with you?" Indeed, Christine had no doubts that the Black Knight was capable of showing love and affection, at least to his children.

Helena's lip wobbled slightly and she quickly turned her head to wipe her eyes. "He said he would be back soon…but where is he?"

Christine realized that despite the obvious show of affection that Sir Erik had given to his children in the past week, it still did not make up for the years of pining that they carried. It was natural that this fear would invade their newfound happiness; Christine had never known what it was like to have someone you deeply love, go away, unsure of when or if they would return. And what the child said was true; Sir Erik had reassured her, and the children, on the day he left, that he would be back within the week, if not sooner. Christine was still confused by the new emotions that were trembling through her, and her dreams were plagued with delicious memories of their last meeting in the hayloft. She was falling in love with the man she had married, but would he accept her gift of love? Did he still love this former mistress of his? When they had kissed, was he simply drunk with desire, and when they were interrupted, would he come back to his senses and once more, only see her as the servant he had married to take care of his children?

And then a new fear struck her…

According to what both Helena and Ophelia had said, Charles' mother was a village prostitute. Had that village been Valmour? And would Sir Erik seek…satisfaction…in the arms of another woman?

The thought filled her with such dread that Christine felt the bile rise within her throat…

"Christine?"

The woman looked up to see Helena's face lit with concern. "Are you alright?" the child asked. "You don't look very well…"

"Nay," Christine replied, trying to regain her senses. "I am fine, I think I am simply feeling overheated from the sun. Nothing that a cool drink can not fix."

Helena nodded her head, although she bit her lip with worry. "I shall fetch you a drink! The twins are with Anne, so I shall follow the sound of an old woman cursing."

Christine could not help but grin at Helena's joke, and watched as the young girl rose from her place on the ground, and ran inside the castle. Christine sighed and leaned her body back, until she was resting against the hard stone surface of the ground's exterior wall. She had just closed her eyes, in hopes to push away her new fearful thoughts, when a voice caught her completely by surprise.

"So the rumors are true!"

Christine's eyes snapped open, but she could not see anyone standing around her. Where had the voice come from? It sounded so close…

"Up here," responded the voice to her silent question, and Christine looked up and gasped as she saw a man sitting atop the exterior wall.

"God almighty!" Christine scrambled to her feet and backed away from the wall, her eyes never leaving the man who seemed to be comfortably lounging there, as if he had always done so.

"I'm afraid you have me confused," the man laughed, his voice a rich tenor, as he leapt down from the wall, landing on his feet with ease.

"W-w-w-who are you?" Christine asked, her voice trembling from the shock of this man, boldly entering the Black Knight's home without so much as an introduction. Where in the world had he come from? She was in a remote corner of the castle grounds—would anyone hear her if she screamed?

"Please don't be afraid, my lady," the man murmured, raising a hand to show her he meant no harm. "I did not mean to frighten you. I assure you, I mean no harm."

Despite his handsome face and figure, Christine continued to back away from the man, and eye him warily. He was tall and broad, although no where near as gigantic as the Black Knight. In fact, he was the complete opposite of Sir Erik—his hair was long and blonde, his eyes a warm shade of brown with flecks of green, and his face…well, it was perfect. High cheekbones, a sculpted chin, a chiseled nose, with lips that folded into a perfect smile, revealing elegantly white teeth. What was that story that Carlotta loved to sigh about? Adonis…yes, this man looked, as Christine imagined, how Adonis would look.

Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, and called upon her newfound courage, straightening her back and lifting her chin, reminding herself once more, that she was the mistress of Winterbourne Castle. "Who are you, sir? I demand that you reveal your name to me at once!"

Christine couldn't believe that was her voice that had just spoken! Even the handsome intruder seemed taken aback by her authority.

"Forgive me," the stranger apologized, before elegantly bowing before her. "As I said before, I did not mean to frighten you. I…well…I am an old…_friend_, shall we say, of Sir Erik's," the man identified, a handsome grin spreading across his perfect face.

Christine lifted an eyebrow at his words. "I would have thought that friends would have the consideration to announce themselves, not to mention entering through a castle gate, as opposed to climbing over a wall."

The stranger's smile never ceased, and rich, warm laughter began to bubble up from his throat. "You suit him well, it seems," he grinned. "A man like the Black Knight needs a woman with spirit."

Christine frowned at the free way the stranger spoke. She was Sir Erik's wife, and this was her home! She deserved more respect than this man was showing! "Sir, you still have not answered my question, and if you do not do so immediately, I shall be forced to have the castle guards throw you out!"

The man would not stop chuckling, but he quickly bowed his head once more, as a sign of understanding. "Forgive me, forgive me…" he finally was able to get a hold of himself and without any warning, reached out and grasped one of her small hands in his, before bowing his head and planting a kiss on its surface. "I am Sir Raoul de Chagny."

Christine pulled her hand back and stared at the stranger with unease. He was quite handsome, but something about him unsettled her. "Y-you say that…that you are a friend of my _husband's_?"

She emphasized the last word, wanting to remind this man that she did, in fact, have a close connection to the fearsome Black Knight.

Sir Raoul grinned, but took a step away from her after she pulled her hand back. It had not been lost on him the way she had emphasized her connection to Sir Erik.

"Aye," he answered, although there was a mysterious twinkle in his eyes as he said this. "And you are right, I should not have 'invaded' your home in the manner of a barbarian, but I wanted to see for myself whether the rumors were true…which I can obviously see that they are."

Christine hugged her arms around her body, the discomfort growing more and more. It was not so much because of the strange, handsome knight's presence…but more so, his words. Something about them troubled her. "What rumors do you speak of?" She had a bad feeling that they somehow had something to do with her…

Sir Raoul grinned once more, his hazel eyes not once leaving her face as he spoke. "That the Black Knight has married…"

Christine felt a blush rise to her cheeks. No doubt this so-called "friend" of Sir Erik's was shocked by seeing that the woman the Black Knight married was not the great beauty, Carlotta de Coleville.

However, it was the word that Sir Raoul spoke with next, that chilled Christine to the bone.

"…again."

Christine's eyes went wide. Had she dreamt what he said? "W-w-w-what?"

A strange smile lifted at the corners of Sir Raoul's sculpted lips. "You sound shocked. Surely you know that you are, in fact, the Black Knight's second bride?"

Sir Erik had five children, he had kept a mistress, he had known at least one prostitute, but…she had been told by so many people that…that he had never married…that she was the first Lady von Desslar…

"She was a great beauty," Raoul wistfully sighed, as if not noticing the obvious shock in Christine's eyes. "Long golden hair that flowed past her waist…dazzling green eyes…and she came from a noble family, so you can imagine the dowry that she brought," he chuckled. "Her name was Elizabeth."

Christine's head was spinning with this news. No one, not Anne, Ophelia, Bernard, or even any of the children, had ever told her about Sir Erik being married. If this were so, what had happened to the lady? Why was she left with the belief that she was the Black Knight's first wife?

"'Tis a pity, to be sure," Raoul sighed once more, only this time it was one of sadness. "She was so young…16, I believe. Her poor father had no idea what fate he had sent his daughter to."

Christine stared at the man before her. Had he no idea what he was doing to her? She felt faint…ill…she desperately needed some water…

"Elizabeth disappeared, not one month after her marriage to Sir Erik," Raoul explained. "No one knows what became of her…it was as if she had vanished into thin air."

_Disappeared_. Ophelia had told her how Sir Erik's mistress had disappeared without any explanation. It seemed that the same was true for this other woman. What had become of them? Why had they disappeared? Chills ran through her body as horrible thoughts began to invade her mind.

"Well, I am assuming he is not here," Raoul sighed, gazing at the castle just past Christine's head. "I shall come another time, and speak with him then," he smiled at her, as if nothing strange had transpired, and bowed once more. "Good day to you, my lady. And please…send my regards to your husband."

He turned to leave, and Christine watched, her limbs shaking, her head reeling, as he climbed the wall once more. However, before he disappeared over the other side, he paused and turned to look at her once more. The mirth that had been in his eyes was gone completely, and his handsome face was now set with a deep frown. "It is not coincidence," Sir Raoul warned, as if he had read Christine's very thoughts. "Make haste, my lady…before you befall the same fate."

"Christine!"

Christine gasped as she heard Helena's voice just behind her. She turned to the girl, who was grinning as she held a wooden mug filled to the brim with fresh, cool water. "Who were you talking to? I thought I heard voices..."

Christine's eyes flew to the wall once more, and let out a long, shuddering gasp. Whoever he was…the mysterious Sir Raoul de Chagny, was gone.


	20. Frightening Revelations

**Summery: **Christine learns more about her husband's mysterious past...a past leaves little comfort...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Frightening Revelations_**

Christine stared at her reflection in the looking glass, a small frown creasing her features, while Anne stood behind her, humming to herself while she ran a comb through Christine's long brown hair. "You don't really have to do this…" Christine murmured, her eyes locking with those of the old woman in the mirror.

"Nonsense," Anne grunted. "I never had a daughter to whose hair I could comb…and I consider it to be an honor, as well as a pleasure, to dote upon the mistress of Winterbourne."

Anne's words caught Christine by surprise, and memories from earlier flooded back. "Did you always comb the hair of the mistress of Winterbourne?" Christine wanted to be careful with her words; she did not know yet whether her mysterious visitor, Sir Raoul de Chagny, had indeed been telling her the truth about another former Lady von Desslar, or if he was mad. She desperately wanted to believe the latter, after all, the man did climb over the castle wall as if he always did so, what could be madder than that?

But something deep inside Christine gnawed at her, telling her the answer was not going to be that simple…

Anne chuckled to Christine's words as she continued to run the comb through her young mistress' curls. "Oh gracious child, what a silly thing to ask! Ye are the only mistress of Winterbourne Castle, ye know that! Unless, of course, you meant young Helena and the twins? They never let me touch their hair, which I do not mind, they squirm and complain too much—"

"How long have you served Sir Erik?"

Anne was taken aback, slightly, but Christine's sudden change of subjects. However, she continued to smile and comb the young woman's hair, as if nothing were amiss. "Oh bless the good Lord, I have served the Master for…" she paused as she silently counted the years. "Why…since he was a child, to be sure. Thirty-seven years ago," she grinned at the memories. "I served his father before him, and when the Master was born, I was sent to look after him—"

"Sent?"

Anne suddenly realized the slip of her tongue. "Aye," she whispered, her face flooding with color. "I mean…well, ye see, the Master was not living here, at Winterbourne, when he was a babe…so I was sent to look after and raise him."

Christine found this piece of information even more puzzling. What did that mean exactly, that he was not born at Winterbourne, that he did not live there as a child? Another question to her endless pile of questions…

"So…you know Sir Erik very well," Christine murmured, choosing to only dwell on one question at a time. "As you said, you've seen him grow from the time he was a babe…to now?"

Anne nodded her head, although a frown was creasing her winkled features. What was her young mistress trying to understand?

"And you have been here for the births of all his children?"

Anne stiffened a little more, not caring for where this conversation was going.

Christine noticed the change in the old woman, and could not hold the one question back any further. "Answer me true, Anne. Am I the only woman who has married Sir Erik von Desslar? Am I truly the first mistress of Winterbourne?"

Anne stared blankly at Christine, shock written across her face at the young woman's questions. "My lady, why—"

"Do you know a man by the name of Sir Raoul de Chagny?"

Anne's face paled at the mention of the handsome knight's name. Christine didn't need any more confirmation than that; whether Sir Raoul was telling the truth or not, the man clearly had some sort of impact on Winterbourne and its inhabitants.

Christine gasped as she suddenly felt herself between turned around from where she sat, and found Anne's face mere inches away from her own, the old woman gripping her shoulders tightly, as she leaned in and hissed into her face. "Ye heed me well, young mistress; ye stay away from that man, ye understand?"

Christine's eyes widened at Anne's warning. "Why?" she whispered, yearning to know more. She had no intentions of seeking the handsome stranger out, but she needed answers to all these secrets. She wanted to know the truth about the man who was her husband…the man she was falling in love with…

Anne straightened herself and turned away, her face still as ghostly pale as when Christine had mentioned Raoul's name. "Just…take my advice," the old woman mumbled. "The man is dangerous; I don't care how handsome ye find him, he's not to be trusted!"

Christine shot to her feet when she realized that the old woman was going to leave her chamber without so much as another explanation. "I saw him, Anne! He came here, today!"

The woman froze, and slowly turned to face Christine. "Sir Raoul was here?" she gasped, her pale face growing even whiter than before.

Christine nodded her head. "Yes, he climbed over the castle wall, by the place where I am planting the rose garden, and as far as I know, no one detected him."

Anne grumbled a curse to the castle guards for their blindness, and to the handsome knight for his cunning. Worry suddenly lit her features, and she reached out to clutch Christine's arm. "Good Lord, he did not harm ye, did he child?"

Christine quickly shook her head, wanting to put the old woman's worries at ease, but grasped Anne's hand, refusing to allow her to leave without further answers. "Nay, I am fine, but he said some things Anne, things that…that don't make any sense, so please…I need to know the truth."

Anne looked at Christine warily, wishing that the girl did not have a hold on her right now. It was not her place to reveal the Master's past…

Christine saw the struggle in the old woman, and knew this was her only chance to get her questions out. "Did Sir Erik have another wife before me? I know that he kept a mistress here, the mother of Jacob and Helena—"

"Who told ye about Beatrice!?"

Christine was taken aback by Anne's fierce question.

_Beatrice_.

She finally had a name to go with the faceless flame-haired beauty…

"I've known, practically since the time I arrived here, that the children have different mothers. I know that Jacob and Helena's mother was Sir Erik's mistress, I know that Charles' mother was…" she blushed slightly, and Anne only confirmed her suspicions with her own blush. "But Sir Raoul, he said that I was Sir Erik's second wife!"

Anne stared at Christine in shock at this revelation. "And…and ye believe him?"

Christine released the old woman and threw her hands up into the air. "I don't know what to believe, Anne! I know so little! Sir Erik hasn't told me anything—no one is telling me anything! All I have are questions, questions that everyone seems to be determined at keeping me from learning the truth!"

Anne bit her lip and looked at her young mistress with pity. The poor girl had been brought to this place without any understanding of the life she would be thrust into; she had been sacked with five hellish children (although no one would believe that the little angels were once demons), and she had a husband who didn't seem to want anything to do with her! Husbands and wives saw more of each other in arranged marriages, than in this! But bless her, Christine was trying, that Anne had seen. She took on her role as the children's new mother with such grace, and she seemed to have accepted this new lot in her life.

The least the old woman could do was help her try to understand…even if it meant angering the Master…

"When I…or any of the other servants, say that ye are the first mistress of Winterbourne…we mean it," her hands gently touched Christine's shoulders and encouraged the young woman to sit. "We never considered Elizabeth as our mistress."

Christine felt her body stiffen at Anne's mention of the other woman's name.

It was true; everything Sir Raoul had said was true.

"So…Sir Erik was married, before me…" Christine realized her voice was trembling. She didn't know why, but the thought of her husband having a wife before her, did bother her.

_Because you love him, that's why. You're just too afraid to admit it…_

"Aye," Anne murmured. "But ye must understand, it was not like with ye and the Master! He did not choose Elizabeth, it was the King's decision."

Christine's eyes were filled with more questions at this, and Anne sighed, before sitting down in a chair opposite of Christine. "I best start at the beginning," she murmured. "Sir Erik's father was a wealthy nobleman by the name of Lord Edwin von Desslar. He had loyally served the King, as well as the King's father, for many, many years. He was the King's favorite knight, and whatever Lord Edwin wished, the King provided. Although, there was one thing that Lord Edwin wanted more than anything in the world…and it was the one thing that the King could not provide…"

"An heir…"

Anne looked up, shocked by Christine's answer. "Aye. Lord Edwin had a wife, and two beautiful daughters, but the girls were born sickly, and within a few years, each died. Lord Edwin and his wife tried to have more children, but none survived past the first days of birth. Lord Edwin's wife could not take the pain any longer, and took her life one night."

Anne paused to dab at her eyes. Lord Edwin's wife had been a good mistress to her.

"Lord Edwin was not so different from other noblemen. He kept mistresses, and ironically, it was through one of them that he finally received the heir he had always wanted…"

"Erik…" Christine breathed as the realization came upon her. That was why Anne was sent to Sir Erik when he was a baby. That was why he did not reside in the castle at his birth…

"Aye," the old woman confirmed. "I'm not sure what hurt Lord Edwin's wife more…the thought that all her children had died before the age of 5…or the thought that another woman, who was not even Lord Edwin's wife, could provide him a son…"

Christine felt a horrible sickening feeling develop in the pit of her stomach. Would Sir Erik seek out a mistress for himself once more? She recalled her fear about the prostitutes in Valmour; would Sir Erik look to other women, women who were obviously beautiful and…experienced…to make up for what she lacked?

"Erik's mother died giving birth to him," Anne continued. "Lord Edwin sent me to stay with the Master, to help raise him. Lord Edwin would often come to the cottage where young Erik lived, spending hours upon hours with the boy," she smiled at this, although it was a sad smile. "After the death of his wife, Lord Edwin grew very ill. He blamed himself for his wife's suffering, and it seemed as if he had aged twenty years in one night. After she was buried, Lord Edwin gave word that he wanted me to return to Winterbourne with young Erik."

"How old was he?" Christine asked. She was truly enraptured with this tale.

"4," Anne answered. "And bless him, the boy did not want for much. Despite all of Lord Edwin's faults, the man did indeed love that boy. He raised Erik as if he were his own legitimate son. He taught Erik everything; sword fighting, jousting, everything that a knight would learn. At the age of 10, Lord Edwin sent Erik to school, to train with other boys. Such things would normally be against the law, ye see, a bastard child interacting with other children of noble birth…but the King favored Lord Edwin…and so allowed it."

Anne took a moment to catch her breath, amazed that she remembered all this. It truly seemed as if it were only yesterday.

"The years passed, and Erik, like his father, became the King's favorite. But Lord Edwin never fully recovered from his severe, and mysterious illness. When Erik was 22, he took a turn for the worst. Lord Edwin wrote a letter to the King, begging that the law see Erik as Lord Edwin's legitimate son and heir. The King granted Lord Edwin's final request, and Lord Edwin's titles, land, wealth, everything…including Winterbourne…became Erik's, by right of law," she looked down at the stone floor and muttered something under her breath, something that Christine could not quite catch.

"As for Elizabeth…" Anne continued, not wishing to repeat what she just muttered, "she was the young daughter of a noble family, their only child, actually. The Master needed a bride, and the family were desperate to marry their daughter off, so by the King's decree, the Master was to take Elizabeth for his wife."

"But something happened…" Christine cut in.

Anne eyed the young woman suspiciously. "How much did Sir Raoul tell you?"

Christine blushed at this. "Only…only that she was quite young, and very beautiful…and that…that she disappeared within one month of her marriage to Sir Erik."

Anne's face did not reveal any further secrets or unknown questions. Based on everything Christine had just said, she could tell that Sir Raoul had been right on this level too. Something had happened to Elizabeth…

"Sir Erik had been away at war before…and once again, the King summoned him to arms. The wedding was not meant to take place until the spring, but Sir Erik did not wish to wait until then, should anything happen to him. To ease the worry of Elizabeth's parents, he wanted to provide his young bride with a home and a title, in case he perished on the battlefield."

Christine was shaken by this news. She was struck by the kindness and compassion that her husband obviously held for Elizabeth; had he gone away to war without marrying her, and had he died, Elizabeth and her family would be left with nothing. But by marrying her beforehand, she was guaranteed that the crown would see to her comfort, as the wife of the King's favorite knight.

She did not like these jealous feelings that were eating away at her. It seemed she had so many ghosts to compete with…

"The night before he left for battle, the Master arranged for a priest to come to the castle to marry them."

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat, wondering if Sir Erik had found pleasure in the arms of Elizabeth. She remembered the way Sir Raoul had described her; young, beautiful, with long golden hair and emerald green eyes. Even if the King did decree the marriage, Elizabeth sounded like the sort of woman a man would want for a wife.

"Elizabeth's family felt it best that she stay with them until Sir Erik returned, and being the dutiful girl that she was, she obeyed. But she would often visit the castle, trying to learn the names of the servants, and understand how a girl such as herself would act as mistress of Winterbourne. And it was during one of these days, while she was visiting, that _he_ came…"

Christine looked at Anne with confusion. "He? Do you mean Sir Erik?"

"Nay," Anne growled with a shake of her head. "Elizabeth was a sweet girl; at least that was what I could gather in the brief meetings I had with her. Very sweet, and very obedient, always doing whatever her father asked of her. No doubt she would make any man a good wife…but like all people, Elizabeth had a weakness…"

Realization suddenly dawned on Christine. "Sir Raoul?" Anne simply nodded her head, and suddenly all of old woman's warnings in regards to the handsome knight made sense. Sir Raoul and Elizabeth had been lovers!

"The two met for the first time at the Master's wedding," Anne murmured. "Raoul was another favored knight of the King's, and had fought alongside Erik in many battles. Raoul's men were to leave with the Master's at daybreak, so he and his men were present for the wedding. And Elizabeth was completely taken by the handsome blonde knight."

Christine was shocked. "But...but she still married Sir Erik. Did anyone suspect? You said that she was obedient; why then would she—"

"The King ordered that Sir Erik and Elizabeth be married; besides, Sir Raoul, while quite handsome, has a meager fortune compared to the Master's, therefore her father wanted nothing to do with him. So she, obediently married the Master, even though it was quite obvious, at least to someone like myself, that her heart belonged to the handsome knight. But it was later learned, one day while she was visiting Winterbourne, that Sir Raoul had…well…as ye said, climbed over the castle wall, and informed Lady Elizabeth that her husband was dead."

Christine gasped at this piece of news and rose from her chair. "Sir Raoul told her that Sir Erik was dead!?" How despicable!

Anne simply nodded her head. "I was the one who found them later. I was bringing clean linens to the chamber that would have been hers, when I heard heavy breathing…" both women blushed. "Before I could even close my mouth from the shock of it all, Sir Raoul was out the window, leaping over the castle wall, and riding off into the distance. When I turned to question the young lady, she threw her arms around me and sobbed, sobbed that the Black Knight was dead, and that she was in love with Sir Raoul, and couldn't help herself."

"But it was all a lie!" Christine realized then that she was pacing the chamber. "Sir Raoul lied about the Black Knight's death, for obviously, Sir Erik is alive!"

"Aye, but…it wasn't a complete lie," Anne explained. "Ye see…the Master had been gravely injured in battle. I later learned, once he was brought back to the castle, that Sir Raoul, who had been the only soldier by his side, had left to fetch help, but instead, fled the battlefield, assuming that Sir Erik _would_ die."

Christine stopped her pacing and stared at the old woman with shock and anger. "He…he just…he _left_ Sir Erik there to die!?"

"Bernard saved the Master's life. Once he learned that Sir Erik had not made it back to camp, and that Raoul was missing, he went searching and found the Master, barely breathing. He and Sir Erik's men were able to save him, and in a matter of weeks, they returned to Winterbourne…but the damage had already been done."

Christine's heart swelled with pity. Betrayal was a horrible thing to face; it was obvious that her husband had faced it too many times in his life…

"Elizabeth returned to the home of her family, but when Sir Erik had gone to fetch her, she was gone."

"Gone?" Christine asked, a strange shiver coursing down her body.

"Aye. I…I told the Mater everything," she murmured, looking down at the floor once more. "I knew it was the right thing to do, and yet I hated doing it…" she sighed. "The Master vowed to kill Raoul should he ever meet him again, and he was fully prepared to divorce Elizabeth, then and there. Even if she thought he were dead, her hastiness to fall into another man's arms greatly disturbed the Master, and he wanted the marriage annulled right away."

"But she was gone…" Christine whispered. Her first instincts had been that Elizabeth had run away with Sir Raoul…but then Sir Raoul had mentioned how Elizabeth had "disappeared". Was this another lie spun by the handsome blonde knight? Or was it something far more menacing?

"Were you, or any of Sir Erik's men, with him when he went to confront Elizabeth?"

Anne found that an odd thing to ask. "Nay; the Master said he wished to handle the matter on his own. When he returned, he simply claimed that Elizabeth was gone."

Christine's brow furrowed at this. "But…what of her family? Surely they were concerned with her whereabouts…?"

Anne shrugged her shoulders. "I never asked; from the way the Master told us what had happened, I could tell that was the last of the matter. It was to never be discussed again."

This troubled Christine greatly. She knew very little about Sir Raoul, and based on everything she had heard and learned, she had no reason to believe anything he had said.

And yet…he had been the only person to tell her about Elizabeth. Would anyone else have told her about Elizabeth had she not prodded them? Why was the truth about Sir Erik's first wife being kept from her in the first place? Was it because they feared that she would follow in the younger woman's foolish footsteps? Or was it something…far more sinister?

Christine shook her head. The Black Knight was many things; fierce, frightening, menacing, and calculating…but he was no murderer.

"Lord bless me…I haven't murmured that poor girl's name in…oh, it feels like a hundred years," Anne murmured. "I hope ye understand now, child, why Sir Raoul is dangerous, and why ye should stay away from him. If he ever comes back, be sure to fetch the guards at once!"

Christine mutely nodded her head, understanding the old woman's concern. She didn't know why Sir Raoul had come to the castle, but she had a feeling it wasn't for anything good.

Anne smiled sadly at Christine, before slowly rising to her feet. "'Tis late; ye should get some sleep."

Christine attempted to smile back, but she too wore a sad expression. She had learned a great deal that evening about her husband's past, and yet it still didn't put her mind at ease. A handsome man had snuck into the castle and told her about a mysterious woman named Elizabeth. This man was not to be trusted, and yet there was still much unknown about what became of Elizabeth. Despite the lies that Sir Raoul had spun, he did seem to be telling the truth about one matter: Elizabeth had, for lack of a better word, disappeared.

Christine thought about this woman she was jealous of, this beautiful, obedient girl, who married a man she obviously didn't love, only to fall into the arms of her seducer, who she highly doubted loved Elizabeth in return. Did Sir Erik love Elizabeth? Anne did say that he was determined to annul the marriage after he learned the truth, but was that more out of honor, or a broken heart?

Was Elizabeth the sort of woman Sir Erik desired? Meek, quiet, and obedient? Or was it Beatrice, the mysterious mistress who had lived with him for so many years? Did Sir Erik love her once? What had become of her? Ophelia had said that Beatrice had also disappeared; had she been unfaithful to the Black Knight as well? And then there was this prostitute that had given birth to Charles. Was that the sort of woman Sir Erik longed for, a woman with no strings attached, who gave a man pleasure when he wished it, and sought out nothing more?

Christine began to wonder what sort of woman she was. Plain, self-conscious, a hard worker…

Was she anything to Sir Erik? When he had kissed her, he made her feel like she was worth something…

"Anne?"

The old woman had just finished stoking the fire, and was walking out the door when Christine had called out to her. She slowly turned and eyed the young woman, who now had the blankets pulled up to her chin.

"I just…that is…" Christine wasn't exactly sure how to best say this, but it was important that it be said. "I just want to reassure you…that I am not Elizabeth; that I will never be like her," she found herself chuckling, although it was a sad chuckle. No, she would not be sweet and beautiful the way Elizabeth was…but neither would she betray her husband, nor the marriage vows they had made…even if it were simply a marriage of convenience.

Anne's old wrinkled face brightened in the dim firelight of the room, a smile spreading across her lips at Christine's words. "Aye…and I am glad of that," she whispered. "Ye have brought so much good to Winterbourne, my dear…and I know, deep in my heart…that ye will also do the Master good, too."

Christine blushed as she watched the old woman softly close the door, leaving her alone in the chamber, with only her thoughts to keep her company. She still had so many questions…but for right now, she chose to bury them. Too much revelation could be bad for one's heart…

She lowered her head to her pillow, pulling the blankets up even further, yearning for the feel of the Black Knight's arms, wondering if she would ever know what it felt like to be lost in them again…or to feel them around her as she slept. Was this all hopeless dreaming?

She pushed the thoughts away, and shut her eyes tightly, determined to get some sleep.

* * *

"_Well, well, well…if it isn't his new little charge…" muttered a beautiful woman with wild, fiery hair._

"_He replaced us with_ this_?" inquired another beautiful woman, who had long, raven hair that swam down her back._

"_She's so old! I mean, much older than I, when I came to be his bride," murmured a young beauty, with beautiful golden tresses._

_Christine hugged her arms around her body, biting her lip as she was circled by these three very different, but very beautiful women, each muttering something about her appearance. _

"_She's not very pretty…I mean look at her hair!" the flame-haired woman spat. "The color of mud!"_

"_I thought my life was miserable…at least I had better gowns than that," muttered the raven-haired lady, pointing at the servant's rags that Christine now wore._

"_She's too outspoken," the young golden-haired beauty sighed, her voice filled with obvious disproval. "A lady should always do as the man says."_

"_At least I provided him with a son," the flame-haired woman spat._

"_So did I!" the raven-haired woman retorted._

"_You were a whore! He paid you for a moment's pleasure…I was his first love," the flame-haired woman grinned as the raven-haired woman sobbed._

_The young golden-haired beauty said nothing; she simply looked at the ground meekly._

_Christine tried to move, but something was holding her down. Her legs wouldn't budge! "Release me…" she ordered, summoning up her courage. "I demand that you let me go!"_

_The flame-haired woman turned then, and eyed Christine with scrutiny. "Demand? Who do you think you are to make such demands?"_

_Christine lifted her chin, feeling her new, independent spirit, come to life once more. "I am Lady Christine von Desslar, mistress of Winterbourne, and wife to Sir Erik, the Black Knight! And you will release me RIGHT NOW!"_

_The raven-haired woman shrank back, as did the golden-haired beauty. But the flame-haired lady only laughed; a wild, evil laughter. "Come now, my pet. Is that the best you can do? You may be his wife, but you will never be to him what I was…" she grinned as she saw Christine flinch. "I was his first love…the first woman he ever shared a bed with, the mother of his two eldest children. All the secrets he keeps from you, he never kept from me…"_

"_Beatrice…" Christine whispered, her eyes focusing on the flame-haired woman._

"_So you do know my name?" Beatrice grinned. _

_Christine lifted her chin once more. "Aye…and you," she pointed at the raven-haired woman. "You are the prostitute that birthed Charles." _

"_I have a name!" the woman cried, new tears coming to her eyes. "But I never gave it to him, I just wanted his money…but no, he had to leave me with a child too! A child that was the_ death _of me!" Her screams were blood-curdling._

"_And you…" Christine turned her attention to the golden-haired beauty. "You are Elizabeth…"_

_The girl said nothing; she simply began to back away into the smoky shadows that surrounded the four of them. _

"_Wait!" Christine cried, her eyes trying to focus on Elizabeth. "What became of you? Did you run away with Sir Raoul?" But the girl was gone. _

_The screaming prostitute also disappeared, the smoke stealing her away, and her screams floating away into the wind. Only Beatrice was left, and she still continued to sneer at Christine. "We shall meet again," the woman vowed, an evil grin spreading across her face. "But I leave you with a parting thought…" she began to back away into the swirling fog. "Has he ever shown you his deepest secret?" her body could no longer be seen, and her voice was beginning to fade. "Because he has shown it to me…and it is most terrible…"_

_Christine attempted to move, but still found that she could not. Something was keeping her in place! She struggled, her hands reaching down to pull at whatever was restraining her legs, but she could feel nothing! "LET ME GO!" she screamed into the air. "RELEASE ME NOW!"_

"_Ah, but where would the fun in that be?"_

_Christine froze at the sound of his voice. It was a voice that haunted her deepest nightmares, a voice that she had not heard in quite some time…but that was coming from right behind her._

"_Hello, my sweet," greeted Philippe de Coleville._

_Christine wanted to scream, but her voice had been robbed from her. She could neither move, nor speak! The sudden feel of Philippe's hands upon her arms, and Christine knew she would retch…_

"_Rip her dress off!" cheered a wicked voice. Christine's eyes widened as Philippe's younger sister, and her former mistress, appeared to her side. "Rip her dress, and let me beat her!" Carlotta pleaded, her dark demon eyes glowing with pure malice._

"_Not until after I have my way with her," Philippe sinisterly vowed. "I've been waiting a long time, Christine…too long." Christine struggled against him as she felt his groin purposefully press against her backside. "And I will enjoy bringing you pain…"_

_Carlotta began to cheer once more, as Philippe's slimy tongue licked at Christine's neck, his hands going to the edges of her dress, prepared to rip the garment from her body completely._

_But he was stopped when the sound of a ferocious roar filled the foggy space._

_Carlotta screamed, and Philippe cursed, as a large, menacing black figure, emerged out of the smoke, his sword held high, his armor glistening, and his golden eyes blazing with vengeful fury._

_Christine found her voice as she gazed up at her savior, who wrapped a strong around her small frame, and crushed her to his side. "Erik…"_

"CHRISTINE!"

Bernard awoke with a start, and he grabbed his sword and turned towards his master, anticipating battle…but only saw Erik sitting up in his make-shift bed, his bare chest glistening with sweat, his body breathing heavily. "My lord?" Bernard was worried, he had never seen his friend look like this! Other men who were sleeping, also began to rise, each looking concerned and confused at what was happening.

Sir Erik said nothing; every muscle was tense, every fiber in his being was screaming at him to run. Without a word or glance, he rose from his bed, slipped on his boots, and grabbed his tunic, before exiting the inn.

Bernard quickly scrambled out of his own bed, and chased after Erik, curious at what was happening. He found his old friend in the inn's barn, preparing his horse.

"My lord?" Bernard attempted again. "What is wrong? What are you doing?"

Without even looking at Bernard, Erik mounted his horse. "Make the arrangements," he ordered, his voice deep and cold. "Have a few men stay behind, and tomorrow, lead the rest back to Winterbourne."

Bernard stared with wide eyes as Sir Erik urged his horse out of the barn. "But…my lord, you…you are not coming with us? You…you are leaving tonight?"

"Aye," the Black Knight growled, his gaze fixed to the north, in the direction of his home. "I have been away for far too long…"

Without another word or glance, Sir Erik dug his heels into the horse's flanks, and the giant black charger gave a cry into the night, before galloping at a fast pace northward.


	21. Sweet Intensity

Author's Note: First off, whether you're American or not, I want to wish you a very happy Thanksgiving! Because I'm sure we all have something to be thankful for...and I know I am certainly thankful for all my readers who have been so supportive and encouraging with this story, so here is my Thanksgiving treat to you! The first of what I hope to be many chapters of Erik and Christine's...well..._togetherness_ would be a good word for it ;o) Anyway, I do hope you enjoy! I'll be writing and posting more next week when the holiday weekend is over. And without further ado...

* * *

**Summary:** They both have been yearning for one another. Today, they begin to finally give in to those yearnings...(WARNING! This chapter contains some explicit and graphic adult situations...you have been warned!)

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Sweet Intensity_**

Christine gasped and awoke with a start.

She swore she had just heard someone cry out her name!

A great shiver ran down her spine as the strange and frightening dream that she had just awoken from, came back to her memory. She bit her lip as she recalled the horrifying events, the encounters with all those women...and she pulled the blankets up around her shoulders as she remembered Philippe's disgusting touch.

_Philippe_.

Even in her dreams, she was still haunted by him.

Christine knew this was not the first time since she had come to Winterbourne that Philippe had invaded her dreams. She realized now that the faceless man who haunted her thoughts while she slept was none other than Philippe de Coleville, the lecherous son of her previous employer.

"He can't touch you here, he can't get you here," she whispered to herself over and over again in a desperate attempt to calm her heart.

But the dreams...all of the dreams...had felt so real.

Christine threw the blankets off and rose from the bed, quickly grabbing a robe to wrap around herself and cover her thin shift. She walked across the chamber to the window and gripped its ledge. A thin orange line of sunlight illuminated the Eastern horizon; dawn was approaching.

Christine felt restless; she had to get out of there, the thought of spending one more moment alone in her chamber was maddening.

The children would still be asleep, and she did not wish to disturb them. The servants would no doubt be busy with their early morning chores, and Anne was most likely in the kitchens, supervising breakfast. It was just as well, Christine thought. In a sense...she longed for some solitude.

She quickly placed her feet in a pair of fur slippers that had been given to her, and quietly, slipped out of her chamber, and headed for one of the many secret passages that the children had shown her.

She needed to get outside, to be bathed in the dawns early rays, to be surrounded by the cold, refreshing winds of nature. The cold air and the dew at her feet would be a welcoming reminder that she had nothing to fear; she was safe here, nothing could touch her.

But was that true?

Christine frowned at this thought as she found the small stone in the wall that would reveal the secret passage. She quietly and quickly slipped inside before anyone would notice, and began her descent down the passage's long, spiral staircase.

Philippe would not dare come to the Black Knight's castle. The man had always been a menacing figure to Christine, but he was no match for Sir Erik. Philippe was quite tall, but extremely thin. He did not have the obvious muscular strength that her husband contained. And while she knew Philippe to be a cunning and calculating person, she also knew this to be true of the Black Knight. Besides, who did Philippe have on his side? Some drunken friends, members of his family? Who were they compared to Sir Erik's men-at-arms?

These were just bad dreams, horrible dreams about a horrible person from her past. But he could not touch her here, he could not!

So why was she still feeling wary?

Christine reached the end of the staircase, and found herself standing in a small, enclosed chamber. She felt around the cold stone walls, knowing that somewhere was a chink that would reveal another door.

Philippe was the least of her worries. There was this other man, Sir Raoul de Chagny...

Somehow, the handsome blonde knight had gotten past the castle guards, and it seemed, at least according to Anne's tale, that he had some practice when it came to climbing over the castle's exterior walls. He seemed to move about with ease, like he was ghost! No one else saw him, save for the people he was purposefully seeking out. And why had he come to Winterbourne now, after so many years?

He claimed to be "warning" her, alluding to Elizabeth, forcing Christine to learn the truth about Sir Erik's first wife, or at least one branch of the truth. He obviously left the part out that he and Elizabeth had been secret lovers, and that he had abandoned the Black Knight on the battlefield. So why tell her all these things? Did Sir Raoul believe that Elizabeth's disappearance was caused by Sir Erik? But Elizabeth had been missing even before Sir Erik had returned from war! All likelihood pointed to Elizabeth running away with Sir Raoul...

Yet she hadn't. Sir Raoul may have lied about many things, but Christine swore, the moment he revealed his bitterness about Elizabeth's disappearance, she saw genuine sadness, mixed with genuine hatred. The handsome knight did not know Elizabeth's whereabouts...and obviously believed that Sir Erik had done away with her.

According to Anne, Sir Erik had gone to Elizabeth's home all by himself, determined to have the marriage annulled. When he returned, it was simply revealed that the girl was missing, and nothing more was said on the matter.

Christine bit her lip. If Elizabeth were still alive, after all this time...wouldn't that mean that she and Sir Erik were still husband and wife!?

Christine suddenly felt ill. She had not realized that her hand had finally found the chink in the wall until a blast of cold air hit her face. It was fitting; the rest of her body felt so numb...

Christine gripped the small entrance that had been revealed to her and gazed out at the cliff that she now stood upon. Memories of the women that she had encountered in her dream returned to her...

Beatrice. She remembered how Anne had revealed the woman's name to her. All Christine knew about Beatrice was that she was Sir Erik's mistress for a number of years, that she was the mother of Jacob and Helena, and that she was extremely beautiful...with long, fiery red hair, the color of the sunset.

In her dream, Beatrice was all these things, as well as cruel, cold, and menacing. She mocked Christine over and over, laughing at her appearance, calling her ugly, and then to add even more insult to injury, she declared how deeply Sir Erik loved her, by revealing that he kept no secrets from her...not even his darkest.

His darkest secret...what did she mean by that?

Could there be anything worse than learning that your husband was still, possibly, married to another woman? That he was in love with a ghost from his past? That he was a familiar to village prostitutes? That he had five children with other women...and did not want any with you?

Christine felt her knees go weak, and she quickly bent down to grasp the ground, before her knees buckled and caused her to fall. She had not realized until that moment that she had wandered down to the beach, and was now sitting upon its cold, wet, sandy surface. She also didn't realize until that moment that she had been crying...

She barely knew this man. He had revealed little to her, they never really talked, he simply brought her to this place and gave her the task of raising his children. And while they had been little beasts, she had found that slowly, one by one, she was falling in love with them...just as she was falling in love with her mysterious husband.

Christine sucked in a breath, trying to hold back a sob, as her shaky fingers rose to touch her lips. He had kissed her once in an inn, on their way to Winterbourne. She had kissed him on the cliffs, after he had rescued Jacob from drowning. And then, only several days ago, they had kissed in the hayloft of the castle stables...and that kiss had awakened her body to feelings and desires she never knew she possessed. She would have given her body to him, she longed to embrace every part of him, to know what passion felt like, to know what...what it felt like to be in the arms of the man you loved...

Did he want her? She was not a great beauty...she was not a beauty at all. They were beautiful, those women from his past; everyone had told her thus, and they certainly had appeared to be so in her dream. She knew that he had married her to raise his children, he had made that quite clear...and she was having a horrible feeling that...that was all he wanted.

But the kiss they had shared in the hayloft had been so passionate! Or was that her imagination? Was it simply her own passions that had clouded her judgement? Perhaps what Sir Erik was seeking was not passion, not companionship, not even love...but a moment's pleasure to satisfy his own carnal lusts.

And she was the best he could find, for that moment...

The thought sickened her, and Christine could not swallow back her sobs a moment longer. She did not want to believe it...but it did make sense. He had been avoiding her since he had brought her to the castle, they barely spoke, touched...and now he was far away, where another woman, a beautiful woman, with experience, could help him to satisfy those carnal urges.

Good God, if he brought back a woman to be his mistress...she could not bare it. She would run away, even though it would pain her to part with the children, she could not stay there and watch as another woman took delight in his kisses, in his touch...

Thunder could be heard in the distance.

Christine looked up and wiped her cheeks, trying to see with her tear-clouded eyes as to where the storm's gathering clouds were coming from. Yet all she could see was dawn's clear skies, and an early morning mist that was wrapping itself around the castle. Where was the thunder coming from?

It was getting closer...

It sounded so near...as if...as if it were coming from the ground!

Christine peered her eyes in the direction where the thunder was coming from, and gasped as a dark, menacing looking creature, galloped towards her. She opened her mouth to scream, but the creature suddenly came to a stop...and she watched with wide eyes...as something large and black, climbed off the creature's back...and began walking towards her.

She could not move. All she could do was stare at the approaching figure...and she swore her heart stopped as the mist parted to reveal the masked face of her husband.

Sir Erik.

The Black Knight.

Her beloved.

"My...my lord?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and blushed deeply as she imagined how awful she must look, her eyes, nose, and cheeks swollen and red from her crying, her hair disheveled from her restless sleeping, and she was only dressed in her shift and robe...and he was staring at her with such intensity!

She opened her mouth to speak again, but gasped as suddenly, she felt her body being seized by the Black Knight's large hands, and crushed to his large muscular frame. It was then that she realized he was wearing no armor, simply his black tunic and breeches. What had happened to his armor? Where were his men? And why had he come to the beach? Christine was so confused, and yet she tried with all her might to hold back the joy that she was feeling at his return. "My lord?"

Sir Erik's fierce, golden gaze, bore into hers, and his arms only tightened around her. "Aye," he growled, one of his hands rising to touch her cheek. "That I am..."

All questions that were reeling through Christine's mind vanished, as she felt her husband's mouth capture hers.

* * *

Erik had not stopped riding until dawn's early rays illuminated the shape of his home in the horizon. With a roar, he urged his fierce black steed faster, until he finally reached the castle walls of Winterbourne.

He paused, much to his own surprise, just outside the walls. Something told him to ignore the castle, and go down to the beach. The very thing he was seeking would be found there...

Memories of his strange dream had haunted him during his whole ride. Christine...his young, innocent, and beautiful bride...at the mercy of monsters.

Secrets that he longed to keep buried were threatening to emerge and destroy everything that he had worked so hard to build. Christine's innocence was one of the many things that Sir Erik found beautiful about her...and he longed for her to keep that innocence, to not see it destroyed by the truth about his past...or his face.

The dream had changed so suddenly; one moment he was watching, with agony, as the women of his past taunted his bride...to only see them slip away, and reveal a new sort of villainy.

The boy.

Erik remembered him on the day he had come to Pierre de Coleville's home. The boy had the same flaxen-blonde hair as Carlotta, and the same sinisterly dark eyes. The boy had been hiding, and did not make his appearance known until Erik and Christine were emerging from the castle's chapel. He remembered how Christine trembled as they past the boy, and the way the boy seemed to sneer at Christine...as well as himself.

He did not know who the boy was...but after tonight's dream, Erik only knew one thing: he wanted to see him dead.

It was only a dream, nothing more. It was not real...

But he could not stay away a moment longer. The people of Valmour would have to do without him, and quite frankly, he had a feeling that they would not object to his leaving. He needed to get back to Winterbourne, he needed to see his children once more, to be with them. He had denied them for too many years with his absence, whether it was fighting battles for the King, or ridding the land of pirates and thieves. He had been away for far too long, and now, thanks to Christine, and by some miracle, he was being given a second chance to be the father his children had always needed, and that he had always wanted to be.

And his wife...God in heaven, how he longed to hold Christine in his arms once more.

She was unlike any woman he had ever known. Long ago, he had been taught in the most horrible way, that a man could not trust his heart with a woman, that love was a thing for fools. More than once, his trust had been betrayed...and yet Christine gave him hope.

She was pure, innocent, and caring. She had proven him wrong on several occasions; when he had thought she had run away from his presence, he found her singing with his children. When he assumed that she was leaping towards her death in the midst of a storm, he had learned that she was trying to save his son. In the short time she had been in his life...she had turned his entire world upside down. Was she a sorceress? She seemed to possess some sort of magic that ensnared his whole household...as well as his own heart.

He burned with longing to feel her against his body once more. To taste her sweet lips, to touch her silken skin, to see her passion rise in the beautiful depths of her blue eyes. He had been a fool to think that he could...or should, deny himself of her sweet offerings. Nay, she was the sort of woman that he had been longing to find his entire life. He still knew so little about her, but one thing he did know, above all others, was that Christine was a good woman.

And he would end this celibate madness between the two of them.

Sir Erik had always trusted his instincts, so without further question, he directed his horse towards the beach, and peered across the early morning mist, to see the object of his desire.

And there he found her. Sitting on the sand, like a nymph wrapped in early morning dew. She wore a simple robe, and the wind was blowing through her long, brown hair. Her face was red; his chest tightened as he realized she had been crying. As his horse approached, she gasped and looked up at him. She began to scramble away, her body still on the sand, and he quickly dismounted, not wanting to frighten her any further.

Christine stilled, and when he drew closer, her eyes grew large, and her mouth fell open. She had not realized it was him, a thought that gave him some comfort; he hated to think that she still feared him...

"My...my lord?"

Angel. She was not a sorceress, but an angel. Her face, her eyes, even her voice...God above, he could not take it any longer.

She gasped as he bent down and seized her up in his arms. He saw a flash of emotions pass before her eyes: fear, confusion, bewilderment...and something else. Something that caused his heart to stop beating...

"My lord?"

He was crushing her against him. His hands were large, and used to wheeling a sword and slaughtering enemies. But in his arms now, looking up at him with such...such innocent sweetness...was a beautiful angel that also happened to be his wife.

His wife.

HIS _wife_.

"Aye," he growled. "That I am." He could not hold it back any longer, the passionate urges that he had been painfully forcing to keep at bay erupted, and with a growl, his mouth came down and captured hers.

A simple whimper escaped Christine's beautiful lips, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss, lifting her off the ground, her feet dangling in the air as he held her to him and kissed her even harder.

His tongue sought entrance, and he thought he would die as he felt her own sweet tongue, shyly greet his, as she opened her mouth to invite him in.

Paradise. So many men sought it and died looking for it...

In the arms and kisses of Christine, he, a monster...had found it.

* * *

Was this a dream? Her dreams felt so real, she didn't know what was fantasy and what was reality anymore...

How could he be there? She had been thinking of him, yearning for him, ready to assume and believe the worst...and yet here he was, standing before her, crushing her against him, and now...kissing her as if his very life depended upon it.

Christine moaned against his mouth and eagerly granted his tongue access, her face blushing as she coyly swept her own tongue into his open and eager mouth. Never, never had she felt anything like this. Was this the sort of passion that Robert and Meg felt for one another? That Bernard and Ophelia felt? In Sir Erik's arms, Christine could believe she was beautiful, that she was desired, that she was wanted. Only in the Black Knight's arms, did Christine truly believe that she was safe from Philippe de Coleville, and all the other ghosts that seemed to haunt Winterbourne Castle.

"Christine..." Erik growled against her throat, his kisses now burning a trail down her skin.

She clutched him even tighter, feeling her feet dangle off the ground. Her fingers found his black, shaggy mane, and she threaded them through the strands, marveling at how soft his hair was. "Erik..." she gasped, as she felt his teeth softly bite her flesh, and she trembled as she felt another growl reverberate off her skin. It was the first time she had ever said his name...and he loved the way it sounded.

Christine's eyes went wide, as she was suddenly swung up into his arms, and he carried her to his horse. She gasped when she felt him put her atop the giant black beast, and then vaulted up behind her. She moaned with pleasure as she felt one of his strong arms wrap around her waist, drawing her even closer to his muscular frame, and she was not even aware that the horse was moving; Sir Erik was cupping her chin and turning her face to his so that he could continue kissing her.

He did not stop his passionate assault on her lips until they reached the castle gates. The last thing he wanted was to be disturbed by any guards or servants. Without looking to see if anyone was about, he quickly led the horse to his stables, and without a word, pulled Christine down from the animal, and swiftly carried her to a secret entrance that he was sure not even his children knew about, and proceeded to enter his home undetected.

Christine marveled at her husband's strength and cunning. He was a large man, it would be impossible not to notice such a person, and yet he moved within the shadows of early dawn as if he were one of them. She clung to him as he took her through a secret passage, one that the children hadn't shown her, and within a few moments, she realized they were climbing yet another secret staircase.

Apprehension suddenly seized her. This was all happening so quickly! She had been yearning for his return, wishing, praying for him to come...and out of the mist, he had appeared! Was this truly real? She trembled as she recalled how he had kissed her, how he had held her...and she trembled even more as suspicions began to arise as to where they were going...

Sir Erik practically kicked the secret door down, and he smiled as he heard Christine gasp. They were in his chamber, stepping out from behind a giant tapestry that covered one entire wall.

He had felt Christine tremble as they approached his chamber, and now she was trembling even more. His hold on her did not loosen, however he did lower her to the ground. Christine was biting her lip, looking about the chamber with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She was looking everywhere...save for him. And her trembles were not ceasing...

_You must go slow with her_, Erik told himself. _She's not the experienced lover that Beatrice was, she's young and innocent, and the last thing you want to do is frighten her._

"Christine..."

Christine practically jumped at the sound of her name. It sounded wonderful, his voice was so deep, she could feel the sound resonating deep inside his chest and reverberating through her entire body from the way he held her so close. But she was so afraid, afraid that this wasn't real, afraid that this was yet another dream, only a beautiful one, one that she dreaded waking from.

Erik gently cupped her chin and lifted her face, longing to see what she was feeling in her eyes. He saw her fear there, and it struck him deeper than any blow by an enemy's sword. Perhaps this was too soon? After all, for weeks they had barely spoken, let alone been together in the same room, and no doubt his sudden passionate interest seemed too intense after days and weeks of forced celibacy.

Nay, his sweet little wife needed time. These emotions were strange for her, he needed to concentrate his energy on _her_ passion, not his.

Christine stared up into his golden eyes and was surprised by how gentle they gazed upon her. She held her breath as she felt his other hand rise to cup her face, and swore she felt her heart stop as his fingers threaded through her hair, and his lips gently kissed her forehead. "Do you fear me, little one?" he whispered, his voice so soft, yet so powerful.

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and felt her eyes grow moist. "Nay," she quickly answered, her voice just as soft as his. "But..." with tentative fingers, she lifted her left hand to gently brush against the smooth surface of his mask. "Are...are you truly...are you truly here?"

Erik was also holding his breath as he felt Christine's small hand touch his mask. The last time anyone had touched his mask, he had run them through with his sword. No one, not his own men, not even his own children, were allowed to see him without it. The mask hid his greatest shame...and he did not want Christine to know that shame.

"Erik?"

Her voice brought him back, and he looked into her eyes and saw her desperation. His heart soared at her sweet question; was it possible for such an innocent, for such an angel...to long for a creature like him? No one had ever asked him such a thing in such a way...or even looked at him in such a way before. He felt his hopes rise once more...

"Aye," he whispered, his lips softly kissing her forehead once more, before leaning his head down to touch hers. "I am as real as you, my sweet."

Christine let out a long, shaky breath, as she felt Sir Erik's arms tighten around her as he murmured the answer she had been longing to hear. "You...you are with me, now? _Me_?"

Erik could not help but smile, and brushed a fallen strand of her hair away from her cheek. "Aye, and I would not wish be anywhere else."

Christine surprised them both when he felt her arms clutch tightly at his shoulders, and she leapt off the ground to kiss him. Erik caught her in his arms and held her tightly to his chest, as her arms wove once more around his neck. He groaned against her mouth as he felt her take charge of the kiss, and he allowed her to set the pace, inviting her sweet tongue into his mouth, responding to the pressure of her lips, reveling in the passion she was expressing.

He carried her to the bed, and gently lowered the two of them down upon it. Christine had not even been aware that they were moving until she felt her back touch the soft feather mattress. He carefully eased away from her mouth and looked down into her eyes, his hand gently smoothing another brown curl away from her soft cheek.

Another flash of apprehension lit Christine's eyes once more, but Erik leaned down and kissed her eyelids, before whispering in her ear, "close your eyes."

Christine held her breath for a moment, but as if by some strange, hypnotic trance, she obeyed, and closed her eyes, trusting him completely.

A small gasp escaped her throat as she felt Sir Erik's lips trace the contours of her face. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, even the tip of her nose. His lips moved down to her chin, and she opened her mouth, yearning to feel his kiss once more, but instead felt his lips descend to her neck, and float across her throat.

Her breathing quickened as she felt one of his hands rest against her stomach and slowly untie the ends of her robe.

God, this was difficult. Erik longed to seize the ends of her robe, of her shift, and rip the garments from her body. He was throbbing with need, his hardness rubbing against the inside of his breeches and screaming for release. It was so tempting, so tempting...

But he could wait, he _would_ wait. He needed to do this for her first, before he could take delight in the sweet pleasure he knew her body would offer.

"Christine..." he moaned against her throat as his hand massaged her stomach, before carefully climbing higher, until it rested just under her breast. "Christine...please...say my name again..." It had sounded so sweet, the way she had whimpered his name when he had held her earlier. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet...

"Erik..." she gasped, as she felt his hand cup her right breast. The shift was so thin, she was sure he could see her skin through the material. "Erik..." she moaned again, as she felt his fingers softly trace the outline of her nipple.

Erik groaned at the beautiful sound of his name on her lips. He knew what it was that made the sound so sweet; Christine was the first person he ever knew, that when she spoke his name, made it sound as if he were wanted. She was the first person that made him feel like a man, not a monster, not a killer...but a hero.

Christine gasped even louder as she felt Erik's hot mouth descend onto one of her rising mounds, and suck the nipple through the thin material of her shift. She recalled how when they were in the hayloft, a strange throbbing sensation shot between her thighs and shook her entire body. That feeling had returned, and she could feel a strange moistness return as well.

Erik's nostrils were filled with the sweet scent of her desire, and his hand snaked down until he was clutching her hip, and smoothing his fingers down her thigh. He gently gripped the material of her shift, and slowly began to pull it up.

Christine's breath caught in her throat as she felt the morning's cool air hit her legs, and she fought to keep her eyes closed as he had instructed.

Erik felt her body tense, and he eased his mouth away from her breast as his hand gently brushed the skin of her thighs. "You are safe," he growled softly, taking delight in the pleasured tremble his voice was having over her. "I will never hurt you, little one, you never need to fear me..."

_Please don't ever fear me_, he silently pleaded. _I don't know what I will do if I lost you, or your trust..._

Christine did not fear him. He was large and menacing, and yet he had never truly frightened her, even on the day when he found her in the garden at the de Coleville's. She still had so many questions, and there were still so many mysteries to solve...but despite all the secrets that had been kept, despite all the deceptions that had been made...she knew, as strange as it sounded, she knew she could trust him, that she _would_ trust him with her life...and perhaps, even her heart.

Erik felt her relax in his arms, and he smiled as he noticed the way she continued to keep her eyes closed. Her faith in him was truly amazing.

His mouth returned to her lips once more, and Christine instantly responded, returning his kiss with a passionate one all her own. As Erik intensified the kiss, his fingers once more began to crawl up her up thigh, and he felt her tremble against his touch, but the tremble he felt was one of wanting, one of anticipation, not fear.

"Christine..." he moaned against her lips, his fingers climbing higher, and higher...

"Erik!" she gasped, his name like a fervent prayer, as she felt his fingers find the hidden treasure they had been seeking. Her eyes flew open then, but Erik only kissed her harder, as his fingers softly, gently, began their exploration of her dewy heat.

His fingers traced her at first, and he growled against her mouth as the heat from her body intensified with every touch. With gentle fingers, he coaxed her legs to part, and he thought he would go mad as her sweet fragrance filled his nostrils, as the tips of his fingers sank into her wetness.

Christine tore her mouth away from his and gasped his name, her hands grabbing hold of his shoulders, and her head falling back against the mattress as he continued his sweet torture. One of his fingers gently probed past her lips, and she cried out as she felt it sink into her body.

"How does that feel, little one?"

Christine bit her lip, her eyelashes fluttering closed, her muscles going rigid, and her breathing quickening with every touch of his fingers.

"Tell me, Christine," he growled into her ear, as he slowly added a second finger. "Does it feel good?"

Christine let out a whimper of pleasure, her head falling back, her chest rising with every growing pant of desire. "Y-y-yes..." she gasped, her hands falling away from his shoulders to grip fistfuls of the sheets beneath her.

Erik smiled, and slid his mouth along her neck and over her ear. "How good, my sweet?" His fingers were softly thrusting, creating a sweet rhythm that had her body begging for more. He felt her hips respond to every touch of his fingers, and it only made him harder. "How good?" he repeated, his voice darker and deeper than before, and without warning, his thumb rose to softly rub against the tiny nub that crowned her womanhood.

Christine's eyes flew open once more, and her mouth fell open as her entire body went rigid at the sudden pleasure that his touch was causing her. "Oh God!" A strange feeling was growing in the pit of her body, a feeling that only intensified the more he touched her. "E-e-erik!" she gasped, her breath coming in quickened rasps.

Erik did not cease, he could tell that she was close, and his touch only increased, his fingers thrusting harder and faster, his thumb circling her clitoris with more vigor. "Yesss..." he hissed, seeing the obvious pleasure in her eyes, on her face, feeling it across his fingers. "Let it happen, little one...let it happen."

"Erik!" The strange sensation would not stop, it continued growing and growing, and she thought she would die from the building pleasure. And then suddenly, as if a dam had broken loose in her body, a trembling unlike anything she had ever experienced, let itself go within her, and her entire body gave way to the intense pleasure that her husband had aroused. "ERIK!"

Erik groaned his satisfaction as Christine was given up to the pleasure he had been longing to show her. She was not the first woman to be held in his arms, but she was the most responsive, and her sweet whimpers, her pleasured purrs, her body's eager responsiveness...God above, they would be his undoing.

He wanted her more than ever.

"Christine..." he moaned against her ear, his lips tenderly kissing her cheek, before running them over her forehead.

Christine was still panting, her breathing ragged and uneven. Never...never had she experienced anything so...so...

She couldn't describe it! No words could describe this wonderful pleasure...

Christine could feel Erik's eyes upon her, and she slowly fluttered them open, and she swore she felt her breath catch in her throat as she gazed up at the tender way he was looking down at her. No one would believe that this man, who looked at her the way he was now, was in fact the same warrior known as the dreaded Black Knight. There was something in his eyes, something that made her heart soar with hope...and even more love for him.

Erik was also amazed. Her eyes, her cheeks, everything...she was glowing with such beauty, such radiance. And the way she looked at him...no one had _ever_ looked at him like that before. "Christine..." he moaned, his head lowering once more, needing to taste her sweet lips, needing to feel her responsive kiss...

"My lord? My lord? Are ye in there?"

Both Erik and Christine gasped at the pounding that was coming from the other side of his chamber door. Erik hissed a curse and lifted his eyes to the heavens; was he to have no peace?

Christine's cheeks instantly reddened, and she quickly grabbed the edges of her robe and wrapped them tightly around her trembling body. She recognized Anne's voice from the other side; obviously the servants had somehow discovered that their lord and master was back.

The pounding only increased, and Erik knew that it could not be ignored. He turned to his wife and noticed the way she was trying to bury herself beneath his covers, as if hoping by some miracle, to disappear. The timing could not have been any worse.

"Stay where you are," he whispered, his hands cupping her face and lifting it once more to his lips. Christine melted against his kiss, and any embarrassed thoughts that were swimming in her mind seemed to melt away with it. "I will get whatever this is about, settled right away," he kissed her forehead, before allowing his fingers to caress her cheek. "This is far from over..."

Christine's blush only deepened, but she trembled with excitement at the meaning of his words. She truly believed, even before this blissful moment, that she was ready to give herself to him completely. Now, after the wonderful pleasure he had given her, she knew she longed for it.

Erik smiled down at her and gave her another kiss, before finally rising from the bed, and with one easy stride, gripped the door by the handle and thrust it open. "What!?" he growled, not amused that he and his wife were being interrupted.

Anne didn't seem to even take notice of his frustration. "Oh thank God ye are home!" Anne breathed with relief. "One of the stable lads said he found your horse in the stables, I could only assume that ye had arrived before the other men."

Erik was growing anxious. He longed to return to bed and be alone with his wife. "What is it, Anne?" he growled, trying to hold his irritation in check, but finding it to be quite difficult.

"This, my lord." Anne didn't say anything further, she simply handed him a rolled up scroll, tied with a black silk ribbon.

Erik's eyes narrowed, and without question, he took the scroll from the old woman. Christine could not see Anne from where she was hiding, something she had to admit she was grateful for, but she watched with confusion at the way Sir Erik untied the mysterious scroll before him and began to read its message.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched his powerful hands, hands that only mere moments ago had given her such pleasure, began to clench and rip into the unrolled scroll that he held.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"When did you receive this?" he asked, his voice dark and angry, its sound causing Christine to shiver, but not in the way she had been shivering earlier. She clutched the blankets even tighter; was it her imagination? Or had the room suddenly gotten colder?

"It was found...early this morning," Anne whispered.

"Where?" Erik's voice had never sounded more intense.

Anne swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing her master would not care for this information, but knowing how incredibly important it was to tell. "In the twins' bedchamber."

Erik crumbled the scroll and let it fall to the ground, and without another word or glance, pushed his way past Anne, and with quick, thunderous steps, marched down the hall, in the direction of the children's sleeping quarters.

Christine had heard the conversation, and fear suddenly gripped her heart. Not caring that Anne would see her, she pushed the blankets back and tied the robe around her body, before rising and flying to the chamber's door. "Anne! What's wrong? What has happened?"

The old woman was picking up the crumpled scroll and lifted her eyes to find her young mistress emerging from her master's bedchamber. If the occasion were different, she would not be able to contain her joy at seeing Christine there. She could tell how deeply her young mistress was falling for Sir Erik...and she could also tell that the feeling was quite mutual.

But now was not the time to express such joy. Far from it...

"Anne?" Christine's fear was growing by the second. "Anne, please, tell me what's happened!"

Anne let out a long, shaky breath, before opening the scroll that she had given to her master. "We thought him dead...but this is his seal..." she held the scroll out to Christine, and her eyes widened at the grotesque picture of a dead animal, hanging limply from the jaws of a strange beast. "'Tis the seal of The Jackal..." Anne softly explained. "Sir Erik's most hated enemy."


	22. Secrets Revealed

**Summary: **Sir Erik learns about Winterbourne's most recent visitor, and Christine confronts her husband about Elizabeth...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Secrets Revealed_**

Erik was trembling. Trembling with intense rage.

He was also pacing, back and forth, in his great hall, his hands running through his black shaggy mane in frustration, his muscles tense, his breathing ragged, and his eyes were blazing with fury.

And every now and then, he would look over at a silent figure that stood near him, and his eyes would blaze even more.

"How…how…why…?" He couldn't finish his sentences, he was too angry!

Christine stood nearby, her arms wrapped tightly around, trying to do their best with fighting off the harsh cold that now filled the room. The blissful passion that she had felt in Sir Erik's arms had sailed far away from the moment he received the mysterious scroll. After learning that it had come from The Jackal, Christine flew after her husband, who had already made it to the twins' bedchamber. She stood silently in the doorway, her heart breaking at the sight of this strong, powerful man, falling to his knees, and clutching the bedposts of the small beds that contained his tiny daughters, as if his very life depended upon it.

They were sleeping peacefully, but Sir Erik growled, and Christine saw the open window at the far side of the room…and two muddy footprints on the floor near it.

A shiver went down her spine, and dread filled her heart. The Jackal had been in that room…

"P-p-papa?"

Christine looked down at her side and realized that Charles was standing beside her, gazing into the room. Charles' eyes went wider when his father turned to look at him, and without any warning, shouted his father's name, which of course led to chaos as the other children awoke, and ran into the room to see if the news was true. Upon seeing their father, the three older ones ran towards him, and the two younger ones sat up in bed and cried out for him, but Sir Erik couldn't have any of it.

He was feeling too much rage at the moment. The Jackal was threatening his family, and he would not stand for ANY of it! It broke his heart to not turn, and take each of them in his arms, but Erik needed to get away, he needed to find a quiet place to think, and plot out his next plan of attack. Something had to be done!

With disappointed, and confused expressions, the children watched as their father rose from the room, not even acknowledging their presence with a word, and walked out, brushing past Christine. Charles' lip began to wobble, the twins were already crying, and Helena's face squished into one of absolute anger, before she too stomped off, muttering under her breath, "I knew he wouldn't come back any differently!"

Jacob was the only one who stood and watched his father's exit with confusion and worry. His eyes found Christine's, and they held the same question that the others held, and it hurt to see that even in his own eyes, Christine could tell that the boy was fighting a battle of disbelief. He didn't want to think the worst of his father, but after so many years of having Sir Erik return from battle, unchanged, was he to think any differently?

Christine knew that Sir Erik dearly loved his children, and that they had nothing to do with his cold behavior. She muttered something to the children, and then raced off in the direction that Sir Erik had gone. She was surprised to find him in the great hall; she thought he would have searched for a more secluded place.

"My lord?"

Erik was pacing back and forth, his eyes wild and focused. He didn't even turn his head to look at her. Christine bit her lip; what could she say to him? "My lord, please…the children—"

"He was in their room…" he growled, deep and low. It was a depth that Christine had never heard before, and for the first time in what felt like ages, she was trembling with fear in the presence of her husband.

"Who is The Jackal?"

Erik's jaw clenched at the sound of the bastard's name. _He's dead! I killed him!_

"Erik—"

"Not now, Christine!" he practically roared.

Christine was taken aback by his shout, but she squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. "I am your wife!"

Sir Erik's pacing came to a complete stop. He turned his eyes towards her and felt his breath catching at the strength he saw in his once meek bride.

Christine's chin was lifted, and she looked most determined. "Erik…please…if I am to protect your children, I need to know who this man is?"

Erik felt his muscles tense at her words. "There will be no need," he growled. "_I_ will protect my family, _I_ will protect my home, and I—"

"I do not doubt your strength, my lord!" Christine interrupted, her voice filled with exasperation. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were lit with fear; fear of the unknown. "Please…who is The Jackal?"

Erik looked defeated, and he hated that feeling. He didn't want to tell her about The Jackal because he knew the second he began relaying his past…that sweet, beautiful innocence that he loved so much about her…would vanish. And he would have only himself to blame.

Once he told her about The Jackal…her eyes would be opened. And the monster that the rest of the world believed he was…would become evident before her eyes.

"All you need to know is this," he muttered. "The King trusts me over all other knights. If he wanted a quest carried out, I would be the man he would summon. If he wanted an enemy destroyed, I would be the man he would give the task to. I am his fiercest warrior…and I have slaughtered many in the name of God, King, and Country."

Christine trembled slightly at this news. She knew that the Black Knight was a fierce soldier, and one didn't gain such a reputation by being weak on the battlefield. She kept her eyes focused on her husband's masked face, although inside, her chest was tightening at the horrors her husband must have faced in his life.

Erik refused to look into her eyes; he did not want see the horror in their innocent blue depths. "The land was often plagued by rogues, thieves, and pirates. The Jackal was such a villain."

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat. So this villain, this enemy…wanted to take revenge on the Black Knight? "He sent you the scroll?"

Erik's jaw clenched once more. "The scroll carried his seal…but The Jackal is dead, and has been for nearly ten years."

This news took Christine by complete surprise. The Jackal was dead? But…who sent the message?

"I don't know," Erik growled, his mind reading the very question she was thinking. "But whoever he is…he will pay dearly."

Christine's brow furrowed. Who else would make such threats to the Black Knight? How many enemies did Sir Erik have? She trembled at these questions…and then a horrifying thought filled her mind.

Someone had entered the twins' bedchamber with ease, disappearing just as mysteriously. Who else could move about and climb with ease? Who else held great anger, and possibly a thirst for revenge? Good God…there was only one other person…

"Sir Raoul."

Erik's head snapped in the direction of his wife the second the words left her lips. "What?"

Christine's face had gone pale, and she turned to Sir Erik, her throat going dry, and her body trembling as the cold realization washed over her. "Sir Raoul…he…he was—"

In two long strides, Sir Erik was before her, his massive hands gripping her tiny shoulders, and the crazed look in his golden eyes told her he was fighting the urge to shake the answer out of her. "Sir Raoul? How do you know his name!?" he demanded, his voice raging like thunder.

Christine put her hands on her husband's chest, trying to push herself away from him, his grip digging into her flesh. "Erik…please, you're hurting me."

"TELL ME, CHRISTINE!"

"He was here just yesterday!"

Erik's eyes went wide, and his hands suddenly fell away from her shoulders. Christine watched with horror as he stumbled back from her, as if someone had just run a sword through him! "Erik…" Christine took a step towards him, her hands outstretched to him. "Erik, I…I was going to tell you, but you arrived so suddenly, and…" her face flushed deeply as the memories of what they had shared returned. She would give anything to be in that moment again…

Erik was trembling with anger. All he wanted was peace! And he couldn't even have that, it seemed. Someone calling themselves The Jackal was threatening his family, and now this! Sir Raoul de Chagny, a once valiant soldier that Erik would have been proud to have fight by his side, but who betrayed him by leaving him to die on the battlefield. A man who had betrayed him in more ways than one…and who had recently been in his home!

"How…how…why…?" He was crazed, crazed with fury! And the white-hot anger that was pumping through his veins caused him to turn his eyes onto Christine and glare at her with deep suspicion. "He's quite handsome, is he not?"

Christine was taken aback by Sir Erik's words. She had been standing nearby, biting her lip with worry, trying to keep herself warm by the distinct chill that now filled the great chamber, but now, as she looked into her husband's fierce golden gaze…she realized that it was _she_, who was being tested.

"Erik—"

"ANSWER MY QUESTION!" he roared, and Christine stumbled back this time. She purposefully ran around a chair, trying to get something between herself and the Black Knight. She was trembling; she was actually afraid of him!

Sir Erik advanced upon her. "Sir Raoul is a handsome man, the complete opposite of me!" he thundered, reaching out and gripping the chair with one hand and pushing it out of the way. Christine gasped and bit back the scream that was in her throat, and backed away from him, until she hit a wall. "He has a way with women, especially naïve, innocent maidens," he growled, his steps never ceasing until he was towering over her. "Did he make your heart beat faster?" Christine was biting her lip, not wanting to cry in front of him, but feeling the tears sting her eyes. "Did he make your blood boil with desire?" he growled, leaning down until his face was mere inches from hers. "Were you tempted to give yourself to him?"

Christine couldn't take it anymore; with a shout that sounded unearthly, she lifted her voice to the heavens, crying out, "NO! I AM NOT ELIZABETH!"

Erik didn't step away…but the jealous fury that had been fueling him just seconds ago disappeared suddenly. She knew…

Christine noticed the change in her husbands eyes, and with a shaky breath, she straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin, swallowing back the tears that were obviously swimming in her eyes. "I don't know why he came," she murmured, trying to control her emotions. "But he did…and he told me about Elizabeth."

Erik straightened his own shoulders, and he took a single step back. So many secrets…so many secrets that he wanted to remain buried, but that refused to stay as such. And now she knew, the one person who he was truly coming to believe could change everything, who could make his life better…it had all been destroyed.

Christine dared not move, but she could not remain silent. She continued studying the figure of her husband, watching his masked face, the tenseness in his muscles, everything; even if he didn't speak, his very gestures told her the truth. "He didn't tell me much," Christine murmured. "Simply that…that she was your wife, before me—"

"She was NEVER my wife," Erik growled out of the corner of his mouth. "We exchanged vows that in the end turned out to be useless words that meant nothing."

"Even so, you did marry her," Christine whispered, her arms rising once more to wrap around her shivering body. "Anne told me the rest," Christine revealed. Sir Erik said nothing, so she continued. "It's not her fault, I begged her, so if anyone should be punished, it's me," she whispered. "But I needed to know, I have a right to know!" she raised her voice, knowing that it was in danger of angering him, but much to her surprise, he remained silent. "She…she told me that you had married her, but…but that while you were away at war, Sir Raoul, who she also revealed had abandoned you on the battlefield, had returned and claimed that you were dead, and thus seduced Elizabeth," she bit her lip, pausing to see his reaction to this news, but still…he remained silent. "Anne told me he ran away then, and Elizabeth returned to her family, and was not seen at the castle ever again. She also told me that when you returned from war, you went to Elizabeth's home to annul the marriage…but she was gone."

Erik finally turned and looked at her, his eyes fierce…but unreadable. "And?"

Christine was surprised by his words. "And what?"

Erik found himself chuckling, although anyone could tell it was not humor that filled his voice. "I'm surprised, my dear. I thought surely you were going to accuse me of murder."

Christine's face paled. Sir Raoul had revealed that Elizabeth had disappeared, and even Anne told her that Sir Erik had gone alone to Elizabeth's home, and returned with only a simple response that she was gone. Christine had no doubt that Sir Raoul wanted her to believe that the Black Knight had done something foul to Elizabeth; and then there was the mysterious mistress, who Ophelia had revealed had also disappeared. Something strange was going on here…and suspicions did point to murder…

"Nay."

Christine was surprised that it was her voice that filled the void of silence. And Erik cocked his one dark visible brow at her words. "Nay?"

Christine lifted her chin, summoning up her courage. "You are no murderer."

Erik narrowed his eyes and studied her for a long moment. "Are you sure of that, my dear?"

Christine didn't understand why he was asking her this, but she refused to be intimidated. "Aye; you may have killed men on the battlefield, or in the name of the King…but you are not the sort of person who would kill women, innocent or otherwise."

His next words sent chills down her spine. "Don't be so sure of that, my dear."

Christine watched with wide eyes as he turned from her then, and stalked off in the direction of his chamber. What on earth did he mean by that? Did he want her to think he was a murderer? Was he revealing that he _had_ killed Elizabeth for her betrayal? But…what about her theory? She hadn't told Sir Erik her theory that The Jackal was in fact, Sir Raoul, who was seeking to take out his revenge on Sir Erik, believing that he did indeed murder Elizabeth.

But now, Christine wasn't so sure if Sir Raoul was wrong.

* * *

Erik was sitting alone in his chamber, glaring at the letter that lay crumpled in his hands.

_Your sword is aptly named: Ghost Maker. But beware; ghosts always return to finish what they started…and haunt those they hate._

"You're dead," Erik growled at the letter. "I killed you myself, I felt my sword rip through your flesh, slice through your bones! Your blood sprayed my armor and pooled at my feet. And I watched your body fall from the cliff and hit the rocks below…"

_But there was no body._ "The sea had claimed it!" Erik growled in frustration to his own doubts. The Jackal was dead, and that was the end of it! But someone…someone was taking up his mantle, just as Bernard had suggested weeks ago. These mysterious pirate sightings, the fear that gripped the village of Valmour, and now this...

Someone truly did want the world to believe in ghosts. Or at least the ghost of The Jackal…

Erik took another deep swig from the goblet in front of him. Upon returning to his chamber, he began drinking. He cursed himself for the way he had treated Christine; she was not to blame for this, and yet she was what he took his anger out on. The moment she mentioned Sir Raoul's name, old wounds, wounds that he thought were long since healed, opened up once more, and all he could think about was how one wife had betrayed him to the handsome blonde knight.

But as Christine had boldly revealed, she was not Elizabeth. And he had greatly wronged her for even thinking that she would follow in the foolish girl's footsteps.

A groan escaped Sir Erik's throat as he recalled the sweet way she responded to his touch earlier. Her every moan, her every gasp, her every purr was music to his ears. She was softer than silk, and she smelled divine. Her responses were not those of a woman who feared him or reviled him; God in heaven, she wanted him, just as much as he wanted her! Raoul may have come to his home with hopes of seducing Christine and thus causing him more pain…but Christine…sweet, innocent Christine…she was no traitor, she was no Delilah. Was it possible? Was it possible for such an innocent beauty who had been thrusted into an unfamiliar world, who had blindly accepted her fate as a mother of five children, and the mistress of a castle…was it possible for someone like her…to care for someone like him?

It didn't matter anymore, for everything had been ruined, and it was his own fault. He could blame The Jackal as much as he wanted, he could even blame Raoul; none of that compared to the guilt and shame that he himself was responsible for. He had been a fool to think he could keep such secrets hidden; she knew about Elizabeth, and no doubt she would soon learn about Beatrice. It was only a matter of time. And what of his most hated secret? How much longer would that remain a mystery?

Now he had a daunting question before him: should he tell her, himself, what had happened all those years ago, and risk seeing her innocence destroyed by his own hand? Or, should he reveal nothing, only to have someone like Sir Raoul reveal it all to her…and thus lose any hope that she could care for him?

Either way, he would lose. Even if she didn't turn from him if he told her, she would not look at him the same way again, she would not whimper with pleasure the way she had today. She would revile him either way…just one way would be quicker.

A knock on his chamber door rustled Erik from his thoughts. He did not wish to speak with anyone. "Go away!" he growled from his chair, not even bothering to rise.

"Father?"

Erik's eyes widened at the sound of his son's voice. He rose and walked over to the door, opening it half way to gaze down at the boy who, save for his mask-less face, looked so much like him. "What is it, Jacob?"

Jacob gazed up at his father, his own golden eyes boring into Sir Erik's, his young jaw set, his back and shoulders straight, and his own muscles tense. "I come to speak on behalf of those who can and will not."

Erik cocked his visible brow at this. What on earth was the boy talking about? Jacob clasped his hands behind his back and stared down his father, not flinching for one second. "We are all grateful that you are home," Jacob began. "We have missed you, perhaps more than we ever did." The remark was biting, but Erik knew he deserved it. It had never been more difficult to leave his family than it had been on that day he had left for Valmour. His children always seemed to get by before, but he knew that was because they were trying to cover up their sadness at his departure, with blind hatred. But everything had changed now…all because of Christine.

"Your absence has been most hard on Helena," Jacob reported. "She believes that you truly haven't changed, that you like leaving us, that you don't love us, and after your 'greeting' to us this morning…she fears seem to have only been confirmed."

Erik groaned, knowing that he had not handled things properly this morning, with any of his family. "Jacob, you need to understand—"

The boy would not hear any of it, he was going to get this all out, and so he simply continued. "Charles has always felt like a outsider amongst us; he is the only one who does not have a full-blooded brother or sister, and he believes his mother never loved him, and that she abandoned him here." Erik was taken aback by this news. He knew, much to his own disgust, that Helena teased Charles about his mother's sad profession. It did not help the fact that the servants often gossiped, hence how Helena learned the truth in the first place. But he had no idea about the loneliness his younger son carried. "He wants to be just like you, Father, but he's afraid you'll never pay him any attention, so he clings to me, hoping that I won't forget him."

Erik felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "Jacob—"

"The twins still don't know you very well. We are more their parents than you, because you have always been away in the past. But these last few weeks, we have all have come to see you in a different light, and they do actually recognize you as their father…"

These words seemed to cut Erik the deepest. He was surprised when he felt moistness on his cheek. He lifted his fingers to touch the surface and realized that the moistness was in fact, his own tears.

"And then there is Christine."

Erik stiffened at the mention of his young bride. He wasn't going to ask Jacob about her, he had a feeling the boy would tell him.

"You probably know that I wanted nothing to do with her when she arrived. I thought she was your way of passing us off, so that you wouldn't have to be here anymore, and in a way, I think I was right."

"Jacob—"

"BUT," he plowed onward. "I see now that things have changed." He looked up at his father, and Sir Erik felt as if he were not gazing back at his own son, but at a giant of wisdom and power. "You rescued me when I was in that cave…you didn't care about your own life, you did everything you could to save me…"

"Because you're my son, Jacob," Erik managed to get out, swallowing the emotional lump that filled his throat. "I would do anything for any of you…I love you all."

A small smile lifted at the corners of Jacob's mouth. "I do not doubt that, Father…not anymore," he whispered. "But the others weren't in that cave, and no matter how many times I relay the story, they will not know how deep your love is, until you tell them."

Erik was amazed; it was as if Christine's words from not so long ago, were coming back to haunt him! Had she not also said something similar? "Jacob, you need to understand this; I will do whatever it takes to protect you, and your brother and sisters. I will not let ANYONE harm any of you!"

Jacob smiled softly once more, but it slowly began to fade. "I believe you, Father, and I know that something is troubling you, I saw it this morning. But the others don't understand, and they need to hear your voice."

Erik knew the boy was right, but what could he say? An enemy from his past was haunting him? Someone was threatening his very family? How would he go about saying that? And what more…there were some horrifying secrets that he wanted the children to never know…secrets that dealt not only with his past, but also with their own as well. Erik looked down at his son for a moment, and then knelt down, until he was eye level with the boy. "Jacob, I am sharing this with you because, out of all my warriors, you are the one I trust the most."

The boy seemed stunned by this news, but he straightened his shoulders all the more. "I will protect any secret that you give me, Father."

Erik smiled and nodded his head. "Aye, I believe you would." His eyes grew serious for a moment as he leaned in to whisper into Jacob's ear. "I have many enemies, as you can imagine. One of those enemies sent me a message today, a message threatening my own family."

Jacob's eyes went wide at this, but he said nothing. He knew something was wrong, and now it all made sense. "Was that why you were in the twins' bedchamber?"

Erik nodded his head. "I need to be on guard as much as possible. But I know that I can count on you to help me. Keep close watch on your siblings. Do not allow them to talk to any strangers that enter the castle."

Jacob looked at his father with question. No one new had come to the castle in weeks. Had something happened? He nodded his head with understanding. "Aye, Father. I will do my best, and better."

Erik felt his chest swell with pride once more. "Aye…I knew I could trust you." He rose to his feet and patted his son on the shoulder. "It is getting late," he murmured, turning his gaze to the window and watching the sun set in the horizon. "Bernard and the other men will be back soon and I must speak with them as soon as they arrive. But I will speak with the others as soon as that business is settled. If not later tonight, then tomorrow morning, I promise."

Jacob nodded his head, knowing that it would be good for his sisters and for Charles to hear the sincerity of their father's feelings coming from his own lips. He would do his best to keep peace amongst them, and to protect them too, but in the end, only their father's words would do, to squash the fears that they held.

Jacob turned to go, but paused as he realized he had not yet asked a question that had been eating away at him. "Father…what of Christine?"

Erik stiffened once more at the mention of his wife. "What of her?"

Jacob clasped his hands behind his back once more. "I heard you shouting at her." Erik flinched at the boy's words, knowing them to be truthful, sadly. He recalled the way she trembled as he roared at her, frightening her with his temper. No doubt she truly thought him a monster, along with the rest of the world. "She spoke to us, after you left the great hall. She said that you were deeply troubled, and now I know why, but…" Jacob was now falling over his words, wondering how best to get his thoughts out.

Erik noticed the boy's struggle. "Say what is in your heart, my son."

Jacob lifted his eyes to his father's, and nodded his head before continuing. "I don't remember much about Mother," he murmured. Erik said nothing, but the muscles in his neck were throbbing at the mention of Beatrice. "I remember she was very beautiful…and I remember she was always laughing and dancing, and she loved to wear furs and jewels…"

Erik remained silent, although he too remembered, not with great fondness, how Beatrice loved her fur robes and ruby necklaces.

"I…I know this will sound strange…" Jacob continued, although his voice was cracking with obvious sounds of emotion. "But…I don't ever remember her…her hugging me."

Erik's eyes went to Jacob's and he saw the pain reflected in the golden depths of his son's eyes. Now that he recalled, he didn't remember Beatrice ever displaying any great show of affection for her children.

"Christine hugged each of us today," Jacob explained. "Even me. And she sang a song, a beautiful song about knights, faeries, and dragons. And…I don't ever remember Mother doing anything like that. Singing songs, or telling stories, or…or anything." He lifted his eyes then to his father's and Erik saw his reflection swimming in Jacob's golden tears. "In the short time she has been here…Christine has been more of a mother to me than…than Mother. And…and she is truly the only mother the others know…" he bit his lip as he felt the tears fall down his cheeks. "Please, Father…don't send her away, don't make her go…"

Erik was amazed at Jacob's revelation, and he felt his chest tighten with great emotion. His arms ached to take his son and hug him fiercely, but the sound of a herald's trumpet announced that Bernard and the others were back. Jacob quickly wiped his eyes, before putting on a stoic expression and squaring his shoulders once more. "Bernard has returned. You should go and speak with him immediately about the enemy."

Erik felt his heart swell with pride once more, but he put his hand on Jacob's shoulders and squeezed it affectionately. "We shall go, together," he stated, before leading his son down the hallway that would take them out to the courtyard.

Bernard was standing near the stables, while Sir Erik's men-at-arms trudged inside, grateful for the hot meal that was greeting them as they entered the great hall. Erik greeted his warriors, Jacob watching proudly from his father's side, before they finally went into the courtyard. Bernard breathed a sigh of relief as he finally caught sight of his master. "My lord, I am glad to see that you made it back safe and sound."

"As am I glad to see you," Erik greeted, his hand clasping Bernard's outstretched arm. "I trust that you made the arrangements?"

"Aye," Bernard confirmed. "Four of your best men stayed behind. They will be sending us word within a week. Not even the innkeeper himself knew that we had left four behind."

Erik turned to Jacob and quickly explained that they were leaving spies in Valmour, to keep watch on any suspicious activity. Bernard smiled at the boy, glad to see that the hate the two once shared for each other, had melted away to reveal a deep trust. "I see some changes have taken place since we were here last," Bernard added, glancing towards the stables.

Erik looked at his steward with confusion. "What changes do you speak of?"

It was Bernard's turn to look confused. "Why…the new stable lad, of course. Although he is a little old to be called 'lad'," he explained. He pointed towards the stables where a strong looking man, with sandy-brown hair and a beard to match, emerged carrying several heavy sacks of oats. "The man greeted us when we arrived and took the horses."

Erik's eyes narrowed and a growl rose up in his throat. "He is no servant of mine," he snarled, before drawing his sword and advancing upon the unwanted spy. "STOP AND STATE YOUR NAME!" the Black Knight roared. The man gasped and dropped the bags of oats that he was carrying, his soft brown eyes filling with fear as the masked giant descended upon him. "SPY!" Erik roared, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt and holding him at arms-length, his sword poised to slice the man's throat.

"NOOO!!!"

Bernard and Jacob turned as a very pregnant servant girl ran into the courtyard, her copper-colored hair flying down her back, her eyes lit with fear at the sight before her. "NO! ROBERT!"

"Stay back, Meg!" the man shouted to the pregnant woman. Erik turned his head in surprise at the unknown servant. What was going on? Who were these people?

"CHRISTINE!" the pregnant woman screamed. "CHRISTINE!"

Erik's head was spinning. This woman knew his wife? The men who had gone into the great hall were now spilling out into the courtyard to see what the commotion was about. Bernard had pulled the pregnant woman away, but she was fighting against his grip, while the bearded man, who could feel the tip of the Black Knight's sword against his throat, was trying to calm her down.

"ERIK! STOP! I KNOW THEM!"

Before Sir Erik could even turn his head, Christine was in front of him, shoving the blade aside, until it was pointed at her own chest. Erik immediately dropped his sword, but his eyes were filled with confusion, anger, and irritation at everything that was going on. "What are you doing!?" he shouted. He could have killed her if he had lost his grip on his sword!

"Do you always greet newcomers like this?" she spat. "These are my friends, Robert and Meg! They were servants, alongside me, at Baron de Coleville's castle!"

Memories began to flood Sir Erik's head. He remembered two servants, a husband and wife, who waited upon Christine after she fainted in front of Baron de Coleville's family. He remembered the tender exchange she shared with them before they left for Winterbourne, and now they were there…in his home!

"What are they doing here!?" he roared, his patience thinning by the second. After everything that was taking place, he couldn't handle anymore surprises.

Christine pushed Robert away from her husband, and Meg immediately flew to his side. "They were dismissed; Baron de Coleville has thrown many of his original servants out on the street because of his debts. Apparently the same happened to them. They have been traveling for days, trying to find work! Meg's baby is due any day now, and they came upon Winterbourne this very afternoon. I could not…and WILL NOT turn them away!"

There was fire in Christine's eyes, a fire that Sir Erik had only glimpsed on several occasions, a fire that truly dazzled him. But right now, he was most certainly not amused. "I am the master of this castle," he growled. "And if you are going to bring strangers into my home, then you need to see me first before you make any decision!"

Christine squared her shoulders. "They are my friends…the closest thing I have in this world to a family! I will not abandon them to starve! And _that_, husband, is the final word on the matter!" she turned on her heel then and began to stomp back towards the castle, Sir Erik's men parting like the Red Sea as she past.

Erik growled and ran a hand through his shaggy black mane, his golden eyes burning with both irritation and arousal. This conversation was _far_ from over…

* * *

Sitting atop his horse, on a hill from a far distance that overlooked the mighty black fortress of Winterbourne Castle, Philippe licked his lips as he peered through a spy glass.

_Christine_…

"We're very close now, dear sister…" Philippe murmured, his voice dark and wicked.

Carlotta snatched the spy glass from her brother's hands and peered through it, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed at the magnificent fortress that rightfully should have been her own home.

"It disgusts me to think that Christine is dirtying that place with her filthy presence," the buxom beauty snarled. "Who does she think she is? She's an ugly nobody; I am of noble blood, _I_ should be mistress of that place!"

"All in good time, sister," Philippe whispered, taking the spy glass back from her. "All in good time."

Carlotta pouted. "How long will we have to wait?"

"Patience, Carlotta…"

"But I want it now!" she whined, folding her arms across her chest and sticking her lip out like a spoiled child.

Philippe gritted his teeth; he hated it when his sister made such expressions. "Meg and Robert are at the castle, just as we hoped. The first pieces of our elaborate chess game are in place…we just have to wait for the right moment."

Carlotta groaned and rolled her eyes heavenward. "I hate waiting."

Philippe ignored her comment and grinned as he gazed at the castle before him. "It will all be worth it in the end," he sinisterly vowed.


	23. Emotional Confrontation

**Summary: **A day that has been filled with surprises and twists finally comes to an end. But it is at this time, that Erik and Christine finally confront each other...and let their emotions go...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Emotional Confrontation_**

"I do hope we haven't caused you any problems," Meg murmured, biting her lip with worry.

Christine shook her head, although she could not forget the look of irritation on her husband's face. It was amazing, the range of emotions that he could express in a single day: passion, fear, anger, rage; the Black Knight was indeed a paradox. Christine had also gone through a gauntlet of emotions, from feeling intense desire for her masked husband, to only have complete fear of him…to now, feeling her own rage at his most recent behavior. The rational part of her brain told her that because of the recent events involving the mysterious note by The Jackal, Sir Erik was more on edge than usual. But she was angry with him, angry and frustrated. Had she not proven her loyalty to him? And what on earth did he mean by alluding to the fact that he could hurt a woman? Did he want her to think ill of him, to suspect him of murdering his first wife? And then this most recent incident when he threatened to kill Robert, a man who Christine saw as an older brother; that was the last straw. She had put up with much from the moment she had arrived at Winterbourne. Sir Erik claimed to despise deceit, but his deceit was far greater than her pretending to be Carlotta upon their first meeting. If he wasn't going to answer her questions, questions she, as his wife, had a right to ask…then she would simply have to find the answers on her own.

"Sir Erik owes me this much," Christine muttered, as she continued leading her friend down a dark castle corridor. "And I don't care what he says, you and Robert are staying here, that is final."

Meg bit her lip with worry. Both she and Robert had taken a great risk with traveling all the way to Winterbourne. But there was no work for them around the de Coleville's home; they had no other choice than to travel northward. "It seems like weeks since we left the Baron," Meg recalled. "I know it hasn't been that long, but…I should have seen it coming. Every day, more and more creditors came, demanding their money, and Pierre was running out of excuses. He sold many of his possessions, despite Lady Maria's protests, but still, his debts were great. Robert and I were some of the last servants to be dismissed."

Christine looked at her friend with sympathy; Meg and Robert grew up in that castle, and despite the horrible family that ruled it, it had been their home for many, many years. "What of your mother?" she tentatively asked.

Meg looked down at her feet and ran her hands over her swollen belly. "Mama was indeed sad, but understood our need to travel north. She tried to help us find work in the village, but had no such luck, even her own home would not accept us."

Christine shook her head with sadness, and reached out to take Meg's hand. Antoinette had been like a mother to her, after she arrived at the de Coleville's doorstep when she was a little girl. It saddened her greatly, the day that Pierre dismissed her; she was the first of many to be dismissed, due to his great debts. But Antoinette had been lucky; she had been able to find work in a nearby home. And while Christine was happy to be reunited once more with her friends, she wished that Meg didn't have to be so far away from her mother.

"She asked about you, the last time I saw her," Meg revealed. "It was the first time I was able to see her, since you left. I told her that she needn't worry anymore, that you now had a husband."

Christine felt a smile lifting at the corners of her mouth, although it was a sad smile. She knew that Antoinette was always concerned for her safety, mainly because of Philippe, and was always trying to push her into marriage. However, she had a feeling that her marriage to the Black Knight was not what Antoinette had in mind. "And what did she say?"

Meg was silent for a moment, before finally replying. "She didn't say anything, actually. Her eyes got wide, and her face paled; no doubt she had heard of the infamous Black Knight, but she didn't say anything. The only thing she did say was, 'go find Christine; she will help you and Robert.' So we began traveling northward, stopping at every village along the way, asking about the home of the Black Knight…and, well, you know the rest."

Christine nodded her head, although she was slightly surprised by Meg's revelation of Antoinette's silence. Antoinette was a woman of many opinions, and she was not afraid to share them. It was unusual for her to hold her tongue, especially when it came to such news as this. Christine shook her head, deciding that it did not matter. "Well I am glad that you and Robert did find us, and have no fear, Meg, the three of you," she grinned, gazing down at her friend's swollen stomach, "are welcome here."

Meg smiled at Christine's words, but it quickly faded. Both she and Robert had arrived earlier that afternoon, after traveling for hours from the village of Valmour. The village was a strange place; everyone looked at them with cautious eyes, and few would speak to them when they asked where they could find the home of the Black Knight. A kindly farmer took pity on them, and was traveling that way, so he took them in his wagon. Christine had been passing through the courtyard, on her way to her meager rose garden, when she spotted them talking to the castle guards at the gate. After she had calmed down from her initial shock, Christine enfolded them in her arms and welcomed them to her new home.

However, that welcome was short-lived, the second Sir Erik learned of their presence.

"Christine?" the brunette turned to look at her friend, who was gazing at her with worried eyes. "Is…is everything alright, here? I mean, between you and…and…" her voice trailed off, but Christine knew exactly what she was asking.

No, everything was not all right. Just when she thought that progress was being made between herself and Sir Erik…something would happen that would take him away from her, whether it was a king's summons, an old enemy, or his own stubbornness, it just seemed that she was doomed to remain trapped, in a loveless marriage.

"Everything is fine," she lied, not allowing the copper-haired beauty to see her eyes. Meg could always see the truth in Christine's eyes. "And Sir Erik truly is a good man," she continued, feeling the need to defend her husband's character, despite his rude actions from earlier. "He is simply under great stress, due to a summons he received from the King."

Meg's brow furrowed at this. "He called Robert a spy. Has something happened that would make him suspect that we are spies?"

Christine trembled as she recalled her husband's behavior earlier that day. He had been crazed with jealousy over Sir Raoul, and rage over the mysterious note he had received from his slain enemy, The Jackal. "As I said, he is under great stress…but have no fear, Meg. Nothing will happen to you, you are safe here," she reassured, hoping her voice sounded believable. "Ah! Here we are!" Christine grinned, grateful for a distraction, as they finally reached the end of the castle corridor they had been traveling. She opened the wooden door to reveal a small servant's bedchamber. "I wish I could offer you more—"

"It's perfect," Meg grinned, smiling at her friend. "No cracks in the walls or ceiling, and…" she gasped as she touched the bed. "Goose feathers?"

Christine grinned. "Yes, all the beds here are goose feathers, including the servants. It should make sleeping much easier than straw."

Meg grinned and rushed over to the fireplace that filled one of the walls. "Oh Christine, this is a palace compared to the Baron's home! Thank you so much, we can not begin to repay you—"

"Hush," Christine grinned. "You and Robert have done so much for me over the years, this is the least I can do," her smile slowly faded and she looked down at her feet. "I confess, I don't care for the idea of you waiting and serving me—"

"Now you hush," Meg interrupted, a grin spreading across her pretty face. "I would much rather serve someone I love and respect than a spoiled brat like Carlotta, any day."

Christine giggled at Meg's words, but her eyes lit up with question. "Tell me…what has become of my former mistress?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "She's become worse than ever. In a way, I'm glad to be rid of that place; I won't have to hear her tantrums anymore," she groaned. "After you left, Carlotta went about the castle, throwing anything she could at the walls, making huge messes, and screaming at anyone who got in her way. Lady Maria has been desperately trying to marry her off, her last attempts at gaining some money, but it has been no use. No man will have her, no matter how beautiful she is regarded."

Christine shook her head; some things would never change, and Carlotta was one of them. A new question came to her then, although this one sent disturbing shivers down her spine. "And…Philippe?" she asked, not knowing whether she wanted to hear the answer or not. Her dreams as of late were so real, but she continued telling herself that Philippe could not harm her, that they were simply nightmares.

Meg noticed her friend's discomfort, and quickly reached out to take Christine's hands in hers. "He left, only two days after you departed," she softly explained. "Last I heard, he was still asking for money for his 'usual activities'," she groaned with disgust. "But I have not seen him since."

Christine nodded her head, telling herself that she had nothing to fear any more. Philippe de Coleville may be cunning, but the man was not stupid. He would be no match for the Black Knight…that is, of course, if the Black Knight wished to defend her.

Nay, Philippe would not be stupid enough to even think of sneaking into Winterbourne! Erik was on such high alert, that anyone, even a merchant who arrived at the castle, would be watched like a hawk. Nay…she was safe here, safer than anywhere else in the world. At least that would be the mantra she would continue repeating to herself…

"Thank you, Christine…for everything," Meg murmured, interrupting Christine's thoughts.

Christine smiled and hugged her friend tightly. "No doubt Robert is still in the stables, I will tell him where to find your new sleeping quarters."

Meg shook her head. "Nay, I will do it. You go to bed, my lady, it is late."

Christine made a face at the sound of her new title, and Meg simply giggled. "Please," Christine pleaded. "When it is just the two of us? Please, call me as you've always called me."

Meg giggled but nodded her head. Christine smiled at her friend once more, grateful that someone familiar was near her now. Both Anne and Ophelia had been good friends to her, but they didn't know anything about her prior to when she came to Winterbourne. It was nice, having someone from her past, there to share things with.

Christine turned to go in the direction of her chambers, but paused, turning her head back towards her friend, a look of worry lit in her blue eyes. "Meg? You mentioned that before he dismissed you, Baron de Coleville sold many of his possessions…?"

"Aye," Meg confirmed. "He sold furniture, jewelry, his wife's gowns—"

"What of the tapestry?"

Meg was slightly surprised by Christine's question. "Tapestry?"

Christine nodded her head, her worry growing by the second. "The tapestry that hangs in the great hall, over the fireplace. You know the one I speak of? It has a picture of a castle that overlooks the sea, and there is a picture of a knight and his princess, standing on a balcony, looking over their kingdom."

Meg remembered now, the large, grand tapestry that Christine spoke of. "It was still hanging, the day Robert and I were dismissed."

Christine let out a sigh of relief at this news. "Oh thank goodness," she breathed.

Meg lifted a copper brow at these words. Back when Christine was a servant there, she would often see her friend gazing up with sadness and longing at that particular tapestry. She had never thought to ask why, and even now, she assumed it was only because Christine admired the picture.

"I should go," Christine murmured. "Goodnight, Meg. I will speak with you again, tomorrow."

Meg smiled and waved goodnight to her friend, although her head was still spinning with confusion at Christine's question in regards to the tapestry. "Strange," she whispered to herself. "Now that I think about it…the picture on that tapestry reminds me very much…of this place."

* * *

Christine's head was aching slightly; her stomach was growling, but what she felt she needed more than anything was rest. She was so weary after all the events of the day, one of which she felt right to conclude, had been the strangest in her life.

Her heart also ached, but for different reasons entirely. Had it only been this morning that she was worrying over the fidelity of her husband? That she was crying with need to be near him? No one would believe those had been her feelings after today. She silently cursed the young woman who had been his wife before her. Because of Elizabeth's stupidity, she was to also suffer Sir Erik's distrust. She knew that she had to tell him about Sir Raoul, but her timing couldn't have been worse. But when would it have been right? So many things were happening, and her head was still spinning with questions. She just wanted to collapse, she fall upon her bed, and—

"I trust that our new tenants have found their sleeping quarters to their liking?"

Christine froze at the growl that greeted her upon entering her bedchamber. Her face paled, before turning a bright shade of red at the sight of her husband, sitting on the edge of her bed, his massive size making the large room look ten times smaller than it truly was.

Erik rose from the edge of her bed and slowly approached her, his expression dark, but unreadable, his golden eyes glowing with ferocity. Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, but lifted her chin and held her head high. "What are you doing here?"

Erik cocked his visible brow at this, and found himself chuckling. "Do I need permission to enter my wife's bedchamber?"

Christine was not in the mood for this. Her emotions had gone through the gauntlet, and as she was certain his had too. "If this is about Robert and Meg, there is nothing more that needs to be said," she challenged, lifting her eyes to match his.

Her fire was burning brightly. She truly was amazing, that he could not deny. "Oh, it is so much more than that," he practically spat, before reaching out and slamming the door behind her, shutting the rest of the world off from the two of them.

Christine jumped just slightly at the banging sound of the door, but remained where she was, refusing to be intimidated. "I pray that you tell me then, my lord. I am quite tired."

Erik eyed her, his jaw tightening and his blood boiling. "After everything that I have gone through today," he growled. "You throw this sort of surprise at me!?"

Christine narrowed her eyes and challenged her husband with a fierce gaze of her own. "You were NOT the only one who felt those fears! You don't think that I was scared, when I learned about someone threatening the children?"

"If you felt those same fears, then I would think that you would have the brains to not pull that sort of surprise on me!" he roared, his voice rising with each word, his muscles tensing and his eyes blazing. "What am I to think? Seeing two strangers, two intruders as far as I'm aware, standing in my home without any knowledge of who they are or where they've come from?"

Christine didn't back down, she hands went to her hips and she glared up at the giant before her. "They have names!" she shouted back. "And I would think that you would investigate or ask someone, before attempting to run them through with your sword!"

Erik growled, fighting the urge to grab hold of her shoulders and shake her until she saw reason! "Why don't you just say what you're thinking, Christine. I can see your thoughts in your eyes…why don't you just say what you truly think?"

Christine lifted her chin. "Why should I? If you can read my thoughts, there is no need to tell you…"

He couldn't hold himself back, he seized her by her shoulders, but Christine did not gasp, she continued to glare right back at him. "I am lord and master here! I am the one who makes the decisions in regards to my home, my family, and everything in between!"

"You are a barbarian!" Christine shouted back. "And I will not give up my friends!"

Gold clashed with blue, and Erik shook her, before pressing her even closer to his body. "So a barbarian is what I am? Why not call me a monster, Christine, I can tell that is what you think!"

"Nay," Christine countered. "I would not give you that satisfaction."

Erik cocked his visible brow at this. "Oh really? And what sort of satisfaction would you give me, madam wife?"

Christine trembled at his deep growl, and opened her mouth to respond, but was completely caught off guard when Sir Erik's own mouth came crashing down against hers. Christine moaned and didn't even fight him; her arms were already entwining around his neck, and she eagerly responded to his demanding kiss, sliding her tongue along his own, whimpering to the sound of his growl, which seemed to lose itself somewhere in her throat.

Erik's arms wrapped around Christine's waist, and he easily lifted her off the ground, crushing her sweet body against his broad, muscular chest, reveling in the feel of her breasts pressed against him. Oh to feel her soft, creamy skin touching his, to feel the hard buds of her sweet nipples grazing the dark hairs of his chest. His arousal grew more and more at the thought, as did his hunger to end their crazed suffering once and for all.

Christine gasped as she felt her back hit the mattress of her bed. Sir Erik was deliciously crushing her against its softness, his large, powerful body, covering her own, his kisses never ceasing, his hands running over her curves, causing her body to tremble, and grow hotter…and wetter.

"God help me," Erik growled, his kisses running down her neck, biting the soft flesh, reveling in the sweet mews that escaped her throat. "You will be the end of me," he groaned. "Never, never has any woman confused me the way you do…or fascinated me."

Christine managed to open her eyes, and tried to concentrate on the words he had just said, although it was growing very difficult, as his hands were already pushing the hem of her gown up her thighs, and his lips were kissing the swell of her breasts just above her collar. "C-c-confused?" she managed to gasp.

"Aye," Erik growled, his teeth gripping the edge of her collar and tugging it down. "One minute I want to shake you senseless…the next, I can't think of anything but kissing you."

Christine's hands went to his face, and lifted it away her body until she could look directly into his eyes. Erik was taken aback at the soft feel of her fingers, touching both his masked, and unmasked cheek. His desire slowed the instant he felt her fingers on his mask…and his eyes searched hers, trying to discover what it was that she was thinking.

She studied him for a long moment, this fierce warrior who confused her heart and made her feel sensations she had never experienced. When she first met him, she was afraid that he would be cruel, but instead was shocked by his mercy and compassion for her. After arriving at Winterbourne, she learned the truth of why he married her. She accepted her fate, and vowed to do her duty to help raise Sir Erik's children, but she began to believe that she was destined to live a life without understanding the love between a man and woman.

But there was the kiss at the inn. And later, the kiss in the stables. And this morning, like a ghost in the mist, he found her on the beach, and without saying anything, he took her in his arms and kissed her fiercely once more. She wanted to believe what she felt in his kisses, she wanted to believe that he saw her as more than a mother to his children…

She wanted him to think of her as his wife.

Erik felt truly humbled as he watched her beautiful eyes search his own, study him, and he held his breath as she leaned up, her hands still holding his face…and she brushed her lips lightly, but sweetly, against his own.

A deep groan of longing escaped his throat in that tender kiss. He could not wait another moment longer, he wanted her so badly, he _needed_ her! His tongue dove into her mouth and kissed her harder, taking delight in her sweet response, as his hands once again tugged at her gown.

_Go slowly, you've frightened her enough today_. It was amazing that she was even allowing this! Erik's breath caught in his throat as her small, succulent breasts, were revealed once more to his hungry gaze. Christine shivered more from the heated look he was giving her, rather than the cold breeze that blew in from her opened window. Erik marveled at the creamy color of her skin, and his mouth began to water as he watched her pink nipples harden under his intense gaze.

But he denied himself the pleasure of sampling her sweet offerings; he had yet to see his bride in all her glory, and he would not touch her, he would not kiss her, until she was fully naked before him.

Christine's blush began to spread down her body as Sir Erik continued to undress her. Her anxiety began to return, and as she felt the fabric of her gown being pulled away, she could hear Carlotta's cruel words echo throughout her head. _"Look at how ugly you are! Your breasts are too small, your waist isn't narrow enough, and your skin is far too tan. You look more like a work horse than a woman!" _

She shut her eyes, trying to force the memory away, but she remembered a day in her youth, when Philippe had spied on her swimming, and made crude and vulgar remarks to her body as well. _"Oh Christine, I can see the hair between your legs! You remind me of a black sheep with all that wool! Shame you don't have the cow udders to match…"_

"Beautiful…"

Christine's eyes flew open. She looked up and blushed even deeper when she saw Sir Erik gazing down at her body. But his eyes were filled with tenderness and desire. Erik's eyes caught Christine's, and he wasn't sure he would be able to speak; he was in complete awe of her.

Her beauty was radiant; her skin was a creamy color that showed it spent much of its life outdoors in the sun, something that Erik did not know he approved of, until he met Christine. Her breasts were the perfect shape, and looked that they would swell and fit his hands just so. Her hips were ample, and led to the creamiest pair of thighs he had ever seen. Christine was not a tall woman, but her legs were long and slender, and thoughts of her legs wrapped around his body only made his body grow harder, if that was possible. He could not help but gaze with hunger at the jewel between her thighs, the soft brown curls that crowned her womanhood, that held the sweetest of secrets, and that his fingers had been blessed to touch so many hours ago. Beatrice had been beautiful, as had many of the other women that Sir Erik had shared a bed with in his lifetime…

But their beauty faded in comparison to Christine's.

And he was unworthy of such beauty.

Christine noticed the change in her husband's face. His expression, which only moments ago had been one of desire and longing, had now changed, to one of revulsion.

Was it possible for one's heart to break multiple times? Christine's heart broke yet again, as she watched Sir Erik rise from the bed and turn his back on her. Was she truly that horrible? His kisses always gave her hope…but he had never kissed her naked. But had he not called her beautiful? _Nay, his eyes were blinded by desire…now they are open, open to seeing the imperfections that so many have told you about._

She told herself not to cry, she forced herself not to cry! But the tears came despite her protests, which only made her angry. "Why…" she gasped between her sobs, grabbing fistfuls of her blankets and wrapping them around her nakedness. "Why…why did you marry me!?" she demanded between sobs.

Erik whirled around, alarmed by the sound of her crying. "What?" he was completely taken off guard by her question.

Christine's sobs only increased, as did her anger, both at herself, and at Sir Erik. "You could have had Carlotta!" she wailed. "Once…once you learned the truth…about who I…who I really was, you still could have married her!" She was hiccupping between her words, and she could only imagine how pathetic she must sound, as well as look. "I know…I know that…that you married me because…because of your children…" she managed to get out, her eyes unable to meet his. "But…you didn't…you didn't have to suffer like this…" she tried to furiously wipe her eyes, but it was no use. The tears would just not stop.

Erik didn't move, but his eyes were transfixed upon her. "What do you mean?" he simply asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Christine lifted her eyes heavenward; had she done something horrible in life to deserve this humiliation? "You could have married Carlotta," Christine moaned, hugging the blankets even closer to her flesh. "I was her servant. If you had married her, you would have a beautiful, young bride, one…one that…" she couldn't finish the sentence, all she could do was point to the bed. "I would have come, had you married her. And I would have helped you, with raising your children," she took a deep breath, and lifted her eyes to meet his. He was looking at her with such intensity; it was truly breathtaking. "It's not too late," Christine murmured, the words cutting deep into her heart, more than any insult ever could. "You can still…still…" God this hurt! "You can still annul our marriage," she managed to get out, "…and…and have…her." She was trembling; trembling with pain and fear at his answer. "I will stay, if you wish to keep me, and help with the children as any good servant would." Once, Christine had vowed to leave Winterbourne, should Sir Erik bring another woman to be his mistress; but she knew that was impossible. In the short time she had been there, she had grown so attached to the children. She couldn't leave them, unless she was forced away.

Erik was amazed by everything that had transpired. "Why do you say such things?" he asked, his voice still soft, but it was growing with intensity, just like his eyes.

Christine lifted her eyes to his once more, knowing that her cheeks were puffy, her eyes swollen and red, and her nose stuffed up from her sobbing. She was ghastly to behold, she was sure of it, but she could not look away from him. "I am a servant. There is no noble blood that flows through my veins; I am nothing…" her eyes were swimming with new tears as old memories began to stir. "Even after you learned the truth…you still insisted on marrying me," Christine whispered. "I thought…I just…I know I am no beauty," Christine painfully murmured. "But…I thought…that there must have been something about me, that…that made you want to take me as your wife," she lowered her gaze once more, the pain becoming too great. "But I know the truth now; you needed a mother for your children, not a wife. As a servant, I am no stranger to hard work, so I was perfect in that sense," the words were bitter, but truthful. "But you can still have your servant; please…I…" she turned away from him, her eyes squeezing themselves shut, as if she were trying to wish herself away. "You don't have to force yourself to desire me…please…end this suffering, and…and…" she couldn't finish her sentence, the tears had swallowed her up.

Silence filled the room for a long time, silence, save for the soft sounds of Christine crying. She dared not turn around, she wasn't sure what would be worse, seeing him still standing there, looking at her with disgust…or seeing that he was gone.

She was not expecting the sudden feel of his strong hands clasping her shoulders and turning her to him.

"I don't want a servant," his voice was deep, and caused the very walls to tremble. "And I don't Carlotta…I _never_ wanted her," his fingers were tender, and despite her resistance, he lifted her face up, until she was gazing up at him, disbelief…and hope, reflecting in the dark blue depths of her eyes. "I came to Pierre de Coleville's home looking for a bride, a bride that would give my children a mother's love, who could be the mother that…that all of them have truly never known."

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat as she felt Sir Erik's mighty hands frame her face. His voice was clear, but soft and tender. "I was desperate to find this woman. As you know, my reputation is infamous; no father in his right mind, unless he was truly desperate like de Coleville, would think of giving me his daughter in marriage. I sent my plea to the King, who sent word to the noblemen in his kingdom. In a matter of weeks, the King's men sent me word of de Coleville's need, and so I traveled for three days, seeking my young, future wife. And what I found was not the flaxen-haired beauty that had been described to me…but a young woman, whose hair was as brown as the earth she was digging in, and whose eyes reminded me of the sea near my home."

Christine trembled as she felt Sir Erik's fingers thread through several strands of her hair, pushing the curls back, while his thumbs tenderly wiped away the tears on her cheeks. _Oh God in heaven, please do not let this be some cruel joke! Had I ever doubted before, I know now…I love him._

Erik tilted her face up to his; even though he was kneeling before her on the bed, he still towered over her like a great, dark giant. "You're not wrong Christine," he murmured. "I could have married Carlotta…and you would have come, and done the hard work of helping to raise my children." Christine held her breath, wondering if he was going to agree to that very idea right now. "But of this, you are wrong…" Erik whispered, his lips just grazing the skin of her forehead.

Christine's eyes fluttered closed, and she held her breath at his next words.

"I was seeking a mother for my children…but that day, when I found you in the rose garden…I knew I could not have another. _You_ were the one I wanted. Not because you knew hard work, not because of your gentle, sweet nature, that I knew would be exactly what my children needed…but because you…are in fact...you."

Christine let out a long, shaky gasp, and gazed up at him with wide eyes. "But…but we…we have never…"

Erik's arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her close to his body, holding her tightly to him. "You are so beautiful, Christine. I don't know what cruelties life has given you, but hear me now. _You_, Christine…are _beautiful_. I will never be convinced otherwise," he growled, his arms only tightening around her. "I have killed men with my bare hands; I have destroyed lives, I have burned villages to the ground, and for many years…I enjoyed it."

Christine trembled in his arms, but it was not because of fear, but pity for the horrors her husband had seen…and the regret she could hear in his voice. She lifted her left hand to touch the right side of his face, the side that he covered with a mask. What sort of horrors would drive a man to wear something like this? What terrible battle scar was he hiding? She felt Erik stiffen as she touched his mask, but she simply ran her fingers along its surface, praying that he could feel the heat of her palm through its cool cover.

Instinctively, Erik turned his head into her hand, a groan escaping his throat as her fingers continued their caress. Had he ever doubted she was angel? Those doubts were now certainly put to rest. Christine…his sweet, trusting angel…

"I have been called a monster," he growled with disgust. "And my enemies are not wrong."

"Nay," Christine argued, her other hand now cupping his unmasked cheek. "You are a soldier for the King, you had to obey his orders."

"Aye," Erik growled. "But enjoy them? Nay; that is what made me a monster, and I do not deny that once, in my bloody history, I did enjoy destroying the lives of other men. But I was young and foolish then," he murmured, his eyes returning to gaze into hers once more. "My sins are great…and God has rightly judged me."

Christine looked confused. What did he mean by that?

"The last thing I deserve is the tenderness of a beautiful woman, especially one who is so innocent…" he whispered with awe. "I dared not touch you, Christine…God I wanted to, but I told myself over and over…the needs of my children must come before my own. So I denied myself of your sweetness, I pushed you away as much as possible, but…it would not work! Ever since that night I kissed you in the inn…I could not think of anything else. And you changed everything, Christine…my home, my children, everything!"

Christine bit her lip, and looked up at him for a long time, before finally whispering, "And…and you?"

His arms only tightened all the more. "Aye, most especially me," he growled. "I am unworthy of you, Christine…and I do not want you to lose your innocence—"

Christine's fingers touched his lips to silence him. "I want to be your wife, Erik…in every way a woman can be a wife." Her hands fell away, and she slowly pushed down the blankets that were covering her nudity, until she was naked before his eyes once more.

Erik gazed at her beauty, and felt his heart stop at the realization of what she was doing. Christine said nothing; she simply took hold of his tunic, and began to lift it up. Erik complied, and lifted his arms up, so that Christine could pull the tunic over his head. Her eyes went to his broad, muscular chest, and for the first time since the night he had dived into the ocean to save Jacob, she saw the scars once more that covered his flesh. Erik held his breath as he felt her soft, small fingers, trace one of his scars, and he moaned as her sweet lips, descended to kiss one that sliced across his chest, over his heart.

"Christine…"

"Please Erik," she looked up at him, her innocence shining through, but he also saw desire, longing…and…something else, that he dared not hope for, for fear of being hurt. He watched with hunger as she fell back against the bed, her hair pillowing around her head like a soft, brown cloud, the firelight casting a beautiful glow across her naked flesh. She lifted one hand, and extended it to him; she was offering her husband an invitation to their marriage bed.

A shaky breath escaped his lungs, as his fingers entwined with hers, and he allowed her to gently pull him down atop her. Neither of them would be denied this night…

"My wife," he growled, as his lips covered hers in a deep, passionate kiss.

"My husband," she whimpered, as she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him close to her flesh.

Tonight, they truly would become those very people to one another.


	24. Husband and Wife

**Summary: **The long awaited wedding night...with a little back history going into it. (This chapter contains graphic sexual content. You have been warned...)

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Husband and Wife_**

_"Erik…come closer, I can barely see you…"_

_Erik knelt before the old man, leaning in close so that the candlelight would illuminate his face. The old man narrowed his eyes and strained his head to see the young man who he had called forward._

"_I want to see you properly, my son," the old man grumbled, as he attempted to sit up. Several monks who were chanting, and several of the man's soldiers, began protesting at once, but one harsh look from the old man's eyes, and they immediately stopped. Erik leaned forward and helped the man to sit up in the old feather bed where he had been lying for the last few days._

_It would be any moment now…_

"_I spoke with his majesty," the old man began, pausing to cough. "He…he has agreed…to grant my request," he managed to get out between coughs._

_Erik looked confused. "I…I don't understand?"_

_The old man gripped Erik's powerful shoulders; the boy reminded him so much of his younger self. Strong, fierce, courageous; the boy would do well, he had no doubts about that. _

"_You are my son, Erik. And you will inherit everything."_

_A gasp went up from around the room, and the chanting monks stopped as they stared at the coughing old man. _

"_But my lord!" a soldier hissed. "He…he…" the man looked at Erik and dared not continue with his original words. "Erik is not recognized as your son in the eyes of the law!"_

_Lord Edwin growled at his steward and squeezed Erik's shoulders all the harder. "I am the King's favorite knight! And…and…his majesty…his majesty…" he couldn't continue, his coughs became too violent. _

_Erik helped his father sit up even more, trying to relieve him of his coughing, fighting the urge to run the insolent soldier through, knowing that it was his fault his father had become agitated. But like the others in the room, he too was surprised. Ever since the day he could walk, Erik knew that he was a bastard. His father would come and visit him often, shower gifts upon him, gave him the best education that any noble boy would be entitled to, and trained him to be a knight. He too, was finding favor with the King, and he knew of his father's history with both the current, and past king. _

_But to be seen, in the eyes of the law, as the legitimate son of Lord Edwin von Desslar? It was too much to believe!_

_Lord Edwin's coughs finally subsided, and he squeezed Erik's shoulders, smiling into the young man's face. "Oh my boy…" Lord Edwin sighed, "You have your mother's eyes…" he murmured, gazing into Erik's own golden orbs. "I never told her this…but I do believe I loved her," Lord Edwin whispered, looking down at his lap. "I have wronged many women in my life…your mother, my wife…and countless others. God will surely judge me for this," he spat, glaring at the monks who filled his room. "Do not make the same mistakes as me, Erik. Be sure that when you do marry, it is a woman you can love…or at the very least, respect. My wife was a fragile creature, who did her best to please me…but I resented her. She gave me daughters, when I wanted sons. She would not let me touch her, unless it was to get her with child. And she never trembled in my arms the way your mother did…she never told me she loved me. But she was young, naïve, and afraid. She was only fifteen when I married her, and her mother obviously never explained to her the goings on between husbands and wives. She did her duties to me…but I resented her for it."_

_Erik wasn't sure why his father was telling him this, but he continued to hold the old man upright, doing his best to offer him comfort. _

"_It was wrong of me," Lord Edwin coughed. "I should have tried to understand her better…I should have been a caring husband to her, but I wasn't. I am to blame for her death," he groaned. "I sought out comfort in the arms of other women…including your mother. I shouldn't have done it, I know that now, but…I do not regret you, my son," Lord Edwin whispered, his eyes boring into his son's. "You have been my greatest joy, and if God judges me for my crimes, so be it. I will not deny you, my son, not even to the Almighty."_

"_Father—"_

_Lord Edwin snapped his fingers, and held his hand out. Erik looked up and felt his breath catch in his throat, as the most beautiful woman in the entire world, took his father's old hand, and stepped into the candlelight._

"_Erik…when I said I was giving you everything, I meant it. The King has granted my request, and upon the moment I die, Winterbourne shall be your home. The land that surrounds it will be yours, and all of my possessions will be yours. The law will see you as my legitimate heir: Sir Erik von Desslar," he growled with fierce pride. "And…you will need a companion…" he tugged on the beautiful woman's hand, bringing her closer. "Beatrice, will be yours."_

_Erik's eyes went wide, and the young woman who held his father's hand smiled seductively at Erik. _

_Beatrice was Lord Edwin's mistress. She had come to live at Winterbourne while Erik was away on his first duty for the King. When he returned home, he was shocked to find such a beautiful woman, with long, fiery red hair, living there, and tending to his ailing father. Erik was seventeen at the time, and Beatrice was twenty-one. _

_Beatrice took an immediate liking to Erik, and the feeling was mutual. Erik was surprised to learn that she was not his father's nurse, but his father's mistress. Beatrice, while she doted on the old man, was instantly attracted to Erik, and had tried, on more than one occasion, to seduce him. _

_Erik could not deny that he had been sorely tempted. He managed to taste a few of Beatrice's kisses, and they reminded him of hot, spiced wine. But no matter how hard she tried, Erik resisted sampling the rest of her delights. She belonged to his father; and that was the end of it. Beatrice even tried to convince Erik to run away with her. She was a peasant, and he was a bastard, they would be free marry! But Erik refused; he would not leave his father._

_In order to keep his sanity, Erik was gone much of the time, winning battles for the King, gaining wealth for himself, and creating a title that left even the strongest of soldiers, trembling with fear. Now, at the age of twenty-two, he had returned to his father's side…and the very thing he had been forcing himself to deny was being offered to him._

_And it felt wrong._

"_Father, Beatrice is your mistress, I could not—"_

"_My boy," Lord Edwin rasped, taking Erik's hand in his and forcing the young knight to clasp the hand of Beatrice. "I am no fool; I see the desire you've held for her over the years. I know that you have been loyal, and for that, I thank you. But as I said earlier, I have done wrong by many women, and Beatrice is sadly one of them." He gazed up at the redheaded beauty and gave her a sad smile. "She was very young when I brought her here, and no doubt she longed for a young, virile warrior, to share her bed, instead of a walking skeleton."_

_Beatrice lifted her other hand to stroke the old man's face. "Hush, Edwin. I have enjoyed our time together, you have been wonderful to me…" she cooed. Edwin knew she was lying, but chose to remain silent on the matter._

"_I can do right by Beatrice and grant both of you your wish. The two of you can finally be together, I give you my blessing." Edwin released their hands and leaned back against his pillows. Beatrice continued smiling at Erik, while Erik looked back and forth between his father, and the woman he had desired for so long._

_Edwin snapped his fingers once more, and one of his men-at-arms began to lead the young woman away. "Give both myself, and my son, some peace," he murmured. "There is one last thing I wish to say…"_

_Beatrice nodded, gave Erik one last dazzling smile, before bending down to kiss the top of the old man's head. "All of you! Be gone!" Lord Edwin ordered, glaring at each of the monks and his other warriors. He waited until the last of them had left, before he addressed his son. "Beatrice is a lovely girl, and will no doubt delight you as she has delighted me…but never love her, my son."_

_Erik was surprised by his father's words. "Never love her?"_

_Lord Edwin nodded his head. "Some women are meant for pleasure, some are meant for marriage, and even some…are meant for love. It is a rare woman indeed, who is all three." _

_Erik was not comfortable with this conversation. "Beatrice is not such a woman?"_

"_Nay," the old man coughed. "She is not meant for marriage, and I have learned that she can not be trusted with a man's heart."_

"_Father, please. I won't deny that I am attracted to Beatrice, that I have been attracted to her for many years, but this is not right, giving her to me—"_

"_It is my final lesson to you, Erik," Lord Edwin interrupted. "Perhaps Beatrice will prove me wrong, and become those three women to you. But you have been prepared for the battle by some of the greatest knights in the entire realm. The least I can do is prepare you for the unseen battle, the surprising battle, the battle of a woman's betrayal."_

_Erik frowned. "Why must I go through such a daunting task? Why Beatrice?"_

"_Because I know you, Erik," Edwin growled. "You are like me in far too many ways. I know that your lust will eat away at you, and that desire will drive you to the brink of madness. I do not want you feeling guilt on top of all that; that is why I have given you my blessing. And I want to be proven wrong, I want you to prove to my rotting corpse that Beatrice is a good, honest woman, and that together, you will find great happiness," he grasped his son's arm. "But do not trust her with your heart, my son. At least, not right away…"_

"_Father, I—"_

"_Remember Erik…it is a rare woman, who a man can both love, marry, and desire. And an even rarer woman, who a man can trust his heart too," he sighed and released his grip on his son's arm. "I am convinced, the older I get…that no such woman exists…"_

* * *

Erik believed this. For much of his life, he too shared the same belief with his father: no such woman existed. He had foolishly given his heart to Beatrice, and so much more. He had put his trust in Elizabeth, and for the second time in his life, tasted the bitterness of betrayal. Nay…this woman, this extraordinary woman who could be lover, confidant, friend, and wife, did not exist…

But that was before he met Christine.

"Erik…" she moaned against his mouth, as his kisses deepened. Good God, he had never felt anything like this before! His arousal for her was stronger than it had ever been before, and his blood raced with more excitement than ever before. He wanted her, all of her, including her heart.

He wanted her love!

"Christine," he growled, running his hands over her sweet flesh, as his lips and teeth teased her throat and neck, his blood running even hotter as he bit her flesh and listened to her whimper in pleasure. "Touch me, Christine…God, I need to feel your hands on me…"

Christine's head was spinning. Erik's delicious weight was covering her, but despite his large size, he was not crushing her. His hands were running over her skin, along her thigh, up to her hip. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and she gasped every now and then as the dark hairs on his chest tickled her nipples. Her fingers, which had been laced in his long black hair, moved down from his head, and began to run over the surface of his shoulders, his powerful shoulders that held two powerful arms, arms that could crush her if he so willed it…but that made her feel so safe, so precious, when he held her in them.

Erik hissed as he felt her nails softly score down his back, and trace the scars that covered his flesh. His sweet Christine was delicately smooth, and he loved the feel of her skin against his. "Yessssssssss…" he hissed into her ear, before nipping the lobe and licking it. "A man could die a happy death, by the sweet spell of your fingers…"

"Erik…" Christine whimpered as he played with her earlobe. Christine was completely naked, and the only portion of Erik's body that remained clothed, was the portion that needed freedom the most. A wicked thought went through the Black Knight's mind, and as he kissed his way down her neck. He grinded his groin over her thighs, and sucked in a harsh breath, as he felt the heat radiating from between her legs.

Christine's eyes flew open and she gasped as she felt his straining hardness, teasing her most sensitive place. "Erik!" she threw her head back and moaned as he moved again, grinding his body against hers, giving her another idea of how great his desire was for her.

_He's huge!_ Christine blushed as this thought filled her head. Erik's motions gave her more than a hint at how aroused her husband was. She bit her lip, wishing more than ever that she had asked Meg about…coupling. Her blush burned even brighter; she liked it! She liked what Sir Erik was doing…and she wanted more!

Erik groaned as he felt Christine's hips rise to meet his covered thrusts. Her thighs were spreading even further apart, and he could smell her sweet sex perfuming the chamber. Good God, if he didn't put an end to this, he would not last another second!

He stilled his motions, even though Christine continued lifting her hips off the bed, wanting to feel him again and again. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not rip his breeches off and bury his throbbing cock into her sweet wetness. But he called upon his strength, and kissed his way down her body, growling with satisfaction as her pleasured mews became pants of need.

"Erik…Erik…" she panted, arching her body off the bed as she felt his tongue swirl around one of her nipples. "Oh God, Erik!" her fingers buried themselves into his hair, as his powerful hands slipped behind her back, to hold her in an arch, as his mouth greedily suckled at one of her breasts, his teeth teasing the nipple with soft bites.

Erik groaned and suckled greedily, like a starving babe, knowing that he had never tasted sweeter breasts in his life. Images of Christine, nursing a child, _his_ child, at her breast filled his head; he could not deny that he found the image arousing, and wondered if she would be kind and allow him to share with the babe?

Christine's head was thrown back, her body panting and screaming with sweet pleasure. More…she wanted more! She did not wish for this pleasure to end. _Oh please, do not let anyone find us here! No more interruptions, I could not take it!_

Erik continued kissing down her body, leaving her beautiful breasts behind, grinning as he felt Christine's muscles tense as his hands moved to part her thighs. "E-e-erik?"

He looked up at her, his tongue dipping into her navel. He simply grinned, a most wicked grin, and continued kissing down her flesh, until he was greeted by a most beautiful sight.

"Erik? What…what are you…?"

He grinned, before leaning in and breathing in her fragrance. God in heaven! No perfume ever smelled sweeter…

Christine swore her heart had stopped beating the second she felt Sir Erik's lips touch her most secret of places. Was this normal? Did husbands do this to their wives? Or mistresses? Or any woman, for that matter? She squirmed beneath his mouth, a part of her thinking it most wicked, but Erik's powerful hands gripped her thighs, and she screamed as she felt his tongue slide inside, and lick the soft, wet folds, of her womanhood.

"Oooohhhh Christine!" he growled, his mouth and tongue making love to her body, her juices, her aroma, filling his head, flooding his senses, driving him mad! She was panting and gasping, writhing and moaning, she was screaming his name in pleasure! And it only drove him on, it only increased his hunger! His tongue curled upwards, and circled her most delicate flesh, taking delight in her surprised screams as he continued to flick his tongue, over and over again, across her clitoris.

"ERIK! Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrik!" her fingers were buried in his hair, her hips were lifting off the bed to meet the demanding thrusts of his tongue, and that strange sensation that she had felt earlier in his arms, began to return to her once more…

Erik lifted his head away, and began to kiss up her body, his own on fire for release. He wanted them both to experience this pleasure together.

Christine looked up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks a deep shade of crimson. "I love your blush," he growled, kissing both her cheeks. "And I love how it feels when you touch me…" Christine gasped as she felt Sir Erik move her hands to the waistband of his breeches. "Please…help me, Christine, please…God, I need you…"

His voice was hypnotic; Christine could not deny him, she could not deny either of them. She thought she would be nervous, and fearful of this moment, but as she looked into her husband's eyes, she knew she had never been more ready.

Erik groaned as he felt her soft, sweet, tiny fingers, gently undo the laces of his breeches, before slowly pulling them down. He bit his lip, sucking in a deep breath as he felt her fingers make contact with his skin, his cock straining for her touch, yearning for it. He was going to explode! "You have bewitched me," Erik growled, his own fingers covering her own, as he helped her with pushing his breeches away. He watched with hunger at the way her beautiful blue eyes went wide, as his straining manhood sprang from its fabric cage. He was pulsing and painfully hard, and desperately needed release. He only prayed that his large size did not frighten her…

Christine's breath caught in her throat as for the first time in her life…she gazed at a naked man. Not just any man…her husband! The part of him that had been rubbing against her earlier was now free for her eyes to see, and her suspicions about his size were only confirmed. She thought she would be frightened, or at the very least, anxious. But in truth…she was fascinated, and could not take her eyes off him…

Erik was not prepared for what she did next. "GOD!" he cried out, as without warning, one of Christine's small hands, reached out and stroked his hard flesh. Christine jumped just slightly by his roar, but a smile lifted at the corners of her lips, and she watched his masked face with fascination…as her fingers wrapped around his length.

"Chrrrrrrrrristine…" he grunted between his teeth, his hips instinctively thrusting into her hand. Her fingers were not the first to touch him…but no woman had ever had this affect on him! He looked down at her with amazement, as she grinned up at him, before looking down at his swollen cock, and began stroking it with great reverence. "Christine…" he growled, his voice filled with warning. She continued doing that, he would make a fool of himself…

Christine was amazed by his texture! He felt hard, yes…but he was soft as well. As if someone took the velvet blanket that adorned her bed…and covered a large boulder with it. She allowed her fingers to explore every inch of him, from the tip all the way to the base, and the parts just below. She saw the strain in his muscles, and she heard the warning in his voice; no doubt she was torturing him with her touch…but it was torture she could tell he was enjoying. Christine smiled at this; he had given her such pleasure…she was glad she could do the same.

"Enough!" Erik gasped, his hand grabbing hold of her wrist. "Enough, siren! Another time," he vowed, smiling at her blush, before lowering his lips to claim hers once more. Christine melted against his kiss, and her body fell back completely onto the bed, while Sir Erik loomed over her, his cock rubbing against the flesh of her thigh, the curls of her heat just teasing his tip. "Right now…" he moaned against her mouth. "Right now, I need to be inside my wife…"

Christine shivered at these words, knowing she wanted nothing more. "Yes…" she whimpered, her arms rising to wrap around his neck. "I want my husband to be inside me…" She gasped as she felt Erik's fingers parting her silken folds, and testing her body, getting her even hotter and wetter, if that was possible.

"Christine…" Erik managed to say, although talking was proving to become more and more difficult. "I will be gentle, but please understand…you may feel some pain, but only in the beginning…" his eyes held her gaze for a long moment. "It will not last, I swear to you. And I will see to it, that you feel the most exquisite pleasure…"

Christine felt tears form in her eyes, and she dared not speak, for fear that she would not be able to keep from crying. His words, his actions, everything; she loved the Black Knight more than anything.

Erik kissed her again, his fingers moving to guide his cock to her entrance. Christine's eyes began to grow wide as she felt his tip slowly nudge its way past her curls, and rub against the outer folds of her woman's flesh. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, as she slowly felt him push his tip inside her body. _He's too large! This is only a part of him, how will the rest of him fit?_

Erik saw the worry in her eyes, and he did the only thing he could think of. He bent his head and captured her mouth, his tongue diving into its depths, as with one, quick thrust, he buried his flesh deep inside her own.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!" Christine cried out against Erik's lips. Erik held her kiss to him, not allowing her to rip her mouth away, and his arms held her tightly, as she began to tremble all around him. With soothing touches, he stroked her skin, trying to calm her body down after the shock of losing her virginity.

The pain took her by surprise. It was a strange pain; not stinging or sharp, but…odd. Her body had always been empty, and she never realized what that emptiness felt like until the moment it was suddenly filled by something quite hard and large!

"Ssshhh…" Erik soothed, finally lifting his mouth away from hers. His brave girl, gripping him tightly, holding onto him for dear life, refusing to cry, despite the tears he saw swimming in her eyes. It was taking every ounce of willpower, every last drop of his strength, to not lose himself in his own pleasure, to not move his body in the age-old rhythm of passion. She was so hot, and so tight! He could feel her muscles pulsing and throbbing all around his flesh, and it was excruciating! _No, no, not without her!_

"Your shining eyes…and earthen hair…your lily-rosen lips most fair. Your lily-rosen lips most fair…"

Christine gazed up at her husband, her eyes locking with his, as her ears were filled with his beautiful voice. Was…was he singing to her?

"Your other beauties, that excel…oh your other beauties, that excel. Men cannot choose, but like them well."

A tear ran down her cheek, and Erik leaned in and kissed it away. It was the most beautiful song she had ever heard! She remembered how a bard had come to the de Coleville's once, and sang that very song to Carlotta. The words were slightly different, but it moved Christine beyond anything, to hear Sir Erik sing the song, uniquely for _her_.

Erik's arms only tightened around her, as with great gentleness…he began to move inside her. "Oooohhh Christine…" he moaned, before his song continued. "Men cannot choose…but like them well."

Christine's eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, and she moaned at her husband's gentle movements, the pain slowly subsiding as his deep, soothing voice, weaved his spell over her, while his body gently made love to her.

Made love.

Yes…they were _making love_.

"Erik…" she whimpered, as his movements slowly began to build. Instinctively, her legs lifted slightly, she rubbed them against his hips, which only caused him to pause his song, and hiss with pleasure.

"Yessssssssssss…yes, little one, wrap your legs around me, just like that…oh God in heaven, yes…yes…that feels so good, Christine! _You_ feel so good…"

Her body was on fire! With every stroke, Erik was only fanning the flames that threatened to consume both of them! She gasped and purred with pleasure, as she boldly lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, and Erik growled with satisfaction. He whispered encouraging, passionate words into her ear, needing to feel her respond to his movements again and again. His pace quickened, and Erik groaned as Christine squeezed her legs around his waist.

"God, yes!" Erik gasped. "Christine…oh God, Christine! Is…is it too much?" he wanted to lose himself, he wanted to move deeper, harder, faster…but he wanted her to feel pleasure, more than anything.

Christine gasped as she felt Erik's body move even deeper into her own. "N-n-nay…" she managed to gasp. "It…it feels…strange…but good!"

Erik could only smile at her sweet, innocent words. He bent his head and claimed her lips once more, as his body quickened even more, taking delight in her pleasured moans as he drove himself deeper, feeling his release quickly approaching, but needing her to feel pleasure too, the same intense pleasure that was going to claim him any second!

"ERIK!" Christine shouted, her head falling back as she felt one of his fingers nudge its way between their bodies, and tease her clitoris, as the rest of his body continued thrusting in and out of her, her own hips matching his movements, her body quivering, trembling, pulsing with pleasure! The pain was gone…and that wonderful, strange sensation that she had experienced in her husband's arms earlier that day, had returned. "ERIK! I…I…ERIK!"

"YES! CHRISTINE, LET YOURSELF GO! LET YOURSELF GO!"

With a mighty roar, his body emptied his seed into hers, and intense pleasure shook them both, claiming their passionate screams for itself. Christine's body was trembling all around him, and Erik's was pulsing deep within hers. Never…never had either of them felt such beautiful, wonderful ecstasy!

With a groan, Erik collapsed atop his wife, whose arms were gripping him tightly, as she trembled beneath him. Panting, Erik gently rolled onto his back, not wanting to crush his young, beautiful wife, and he couldn't help but grin as she went with him, her arms never once loosening their grip.

Their bodies were slick with sweat, and the sheets were tangled around their limbs. Christine's face was pressed against Sir Erik's broad, muscular chest, her breathing ragged, and her body utterly exhausted. Erik's hands gently pushed her slick hair away from her brow, and lifted her face up, until she was gazing down at him.

A blush already covered her cheeks, and Erik could not help but smile at the beautiful sight. "We are truly married now, my sweet."

Christine's blush only darkened, but she grinned at his words, liking the way they sounded very much. Yes…she was his, completely. And he was hers.

Erik pulled a blanket up, to cover her naked back and keep her warm. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, if she felt sore, if she enjoyed herself, and so many other questions. But as he looked upon her glowing face, he realized that the answers he needed could not even begin to be described by words. Her eyes, her blush, her smile…they held all the answers, and his heart soared at the answer he saw in them.

"Erik…" she purred, snuggling her head against his chest. She felt so tired…

Erik ran his fingers through her hair, and wrapped his arms around her body, hugging her close. "Sleep, little one," he softly whispered, before filling her ears with a sweet, soft lullaby.

Christine smiled at the sound, recognizing it from the night she found him singing to the twins. Her fingers played with the dark hairs of his chest, and she purred with contentment, before she sleepily murmured, "I love you…"

* * *

The song Erik sings is an actual medieval madrigal, titled _"Your Shining Eyes"_. The original lyrics describe a beauty with golden hair, hence why Christine refers to Erik "making the song uniquely her own". 


	25. Loving Tenderness

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Christmas is a comin' and there's too much to do! I may not be able to update until later next week, after the holiday (I have to make my apartment look presentable for my parents) but I do hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you all have a wonderful holiday weekend!**

* * *

**Summary: **Despite the nightmares of the past that plague Sir Erik, the Black Knight finds himself questioning his resolve to never love again... 

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Loving Tenderness_**

"_You're leaving again?"_

_Erik closed his eyes and summoned his strength, before turning and facing the fiery beauty, whose belly was heavily swollen with child._

"'_Tis the King's summons, Beatrice. I can not ignore it, that would be treason."_

_Beatrice threw her hands up into the air and let out a shriek of disdain. "To hell with the King! And to hell with you!" she shouted, before pointing an accusing finger at him. _

_Erik's jaw clenched at Beatrice's words. The woman did nothing but shout, or curse, it seemed. He stood by and squared his chest as her litany of complaints filled the air._

_"You were gone when your son was born," she spat. "You promised you would return before Jacob was born, but you were gone!"_

_Erik said nothing; on the day his first-born son came into the world, he traveled at great speed to reach Winterbourne. He had been away in the south, investigating strange pirate activity, when word reached him of Beatrice's intense labor. Like the wind, he rode his steed back to Winterbourne, and arrived just after the babe was born. Beatrice was already asleep, and did not know of his presence until the next day. All night long, Erik sat with the child, holding it in his arms, reveling in the tiny miracle that he held in his massive hands. _

_Jacob was a strong boy, who looked so much like Erik that it frightened him. From the boy's shaggy black hair, to his own striking golden gaze, the child was a miniature replica of himself. Save for the mask, of course…_

_The mask._

_That was truly when Beatrice's coldness became apparent to him. _

_It wasn't until he felt the cold surface of his mask, that Erik even realized he was touching it._

"_You could care less about your family, you willingly abandon it!" Beatrice spat, marching over to the window of the bedchamber that they once shared. "Why don't you just admit what this is really about," she hissed, her gaze fixed on the setting sun. "This isn't about your loyalty to the King…this is about revenge!"_

"_Beatrice…" Erik growled._

"_I am no fool, Erik!" she shouted, rounding on him with fury blazing in her sapphire eyes. "Ever since your last encounter with The Jackal, you have been obsessed with extracting your revenge!"_

_Erik gritted his teeth. "Perhaps my obsession would not be as strong if you didn't make it so obvious that it matters!" he growled._

_Beatrice looked away from him then, but it was not fast enough for Erik to miss her look of disgust. His chest filled with pain; ever since The Jackal left his "mark" on Sir Erik, Beatrice would not allow him to touch her._

"_I don't even know why you are still standing here," she muttered. "I don't even know why you continue telling me that you are leaving! Just go! That is what you want, isn't it?"_

"_NO!" _

_Beatrice gasped as she felt her lover's powerful hands grip her shoulders and whirl her around. She let out a shriek as she realized he was pushing his body against hers, and she was trapped between the wall, and his own powerful chest. _

"_That is NOT what I want!" Erik growled, his hands shaking her shoulders just slightly, his eyes desperate to find some hope in her face, something that told him that she still loved him, that she still wanted him. "I want us…" his voice softened, and one of his hands drifted down until it was resting on her belly. "…to be a family again."_

_Beatrice had turned her head, refusing to look at him. "Family? We are not even married…"_

"_You know that I have asked the King for permission to marry you! It will take time; according to the law, we are of different classes, therefore can not marry unless the King grants us permission. We must be patient."_

_Beatrice shoved his hand off her stomach. "The King was more than happy to help your father with giving you his title and all that goes with it! There was no wait then!"_

_Erik had not missed the fact that she had shoved his hand away, but he refused to back down. "This situation is different, but I will write to him again if you wish, I will beg him, if you wish…but if I am going to do any of that, then I must appease him by answering his summons."_

_Beatrice simply rolled her eyes, her face still turned away from him. Erik's pain was growing by the second. He had fought many battles, and had earned many scars…but none of them compared to the pain he was feeling now._

"_Beatrice…" his voice was soft, but deep and urgent. He lifted one of his hands to turn her face towards his, needing to see her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes that once reflected loving desire. "Beatrice, please…look at me—"_

"_GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!" she shouted, before managing to push his great weight away from her just long enough to scamper away from him. _

_Erik's pain gave way to his anger, and his roar rose to new heights. "WHY!?" he shouted. "DO I DISGUST YOU SO!? DOES IT SICKEN YOU TO LOOK AT ME!? TO KNOW THAT THE CHILD YOU CARRY WAS CREATED BY THE MAN WHO STANDS BEFORE YOU NOW, A MAN WHOSE TOUCH YOU CAN NOT EVEN TOLERATE!?"_

"_YES!" _

_Erik was stunned by her answer. He expected—nay—he hoped, that she would look horrified by the response she had just shouted, praying that it had all been a mistake, an outburst done in anger and nothing more._

_But there was no look of horror or regret; she stood there, her chest rising and falling with heated anger, and her eyes filled with nothing but genuine revulsion. "Be gone, Erik!" she hissed, her finger pointing at the chamber door. "Go on your quest for king and country, your quest for revenge, and leave me to give birth in peace!"_

_Erik felt as if someone had taken his sword, and run him through. The words his father had murmured to him on his deathbed came crashing back; love, of any kind, was meant for fools, and Beatrice was not capable of love, at least not the kind of love that could survive beyond any trauma. He was at a complete loss…_

_Beatrice looked at him with even more disgust. "You were always a monster, Erik. Your reputation on the battlefield confirms that. But now…well, now, thanks to The Jackal, you look the part!"_

Erik gasped, his eyes flying open, as he felt something touch his mask.

He reached up to grab the intruding object and thrust it away, but paused when he realized that the thing that was touching his mask were Christine's own, small, soft fingers.

He held his breath as he felt her fingers sleepily slide over the cool surface of his mask. He could tell by the way she was breathing that she was indeed asleep; this was no performance to fool him into relaxing so she could remove his mask. Nay…Christine would not do that, she feared him too much. At least that was what he believed…until earlier.

Erik looked down at the woman sleeping beside him, the woman curled up in his arms, whose head was pillowed against his chest, her body snuggled close to his, a smile of contentment curled upon her lovely face. His innocent bride, his sweet, beautiful wife; she was an angel, and she had willingly given her body to a monster. That alone should have been an unexplainable phenomenon, but it was surpassed by the words she murmured after the passion that they had shared.

_"I love you…"_

The poor girl was exhausted, and she had quickly fallen asleep, unaware of the shocked warrior who held her close. Erik froze at the sound of her sweet words, his face paling as they repeated themselves over and over in his head.

She loved him.

_She_ loved _him_.

_Nay, 'tis her passion talking, she is young and innocent, she sings songs of knights and faerie princesses, no doubt she believes that husbands and wives must say such things after experiencing great pleasure in one another's arms._

Yet no matter how hard he tried to reason what she had said, he could not help but feel great hope lift in his heart…and great dread quickly follow.

Beatrice, his first love. When he was young and foolish, he had loved her fiercely. He had loved her even before she was his, and after his father had given them his blessing, Erik did not think it possible for his heart to feel any more joy. For three wonderful years, the two of them lived like young lovers, basking in their passion, not caring what went on in the world around them, their eyes were only filled with each other. Then, when Erik was 25, Beatrice announced she was with child, and Erik realized that the joy he had felt before was nothing compared to the joy he felt now. He wanted Beatrice to be more than his mistress, to be his wife, so he quickly sent a request to the King, asking for permission to marry. But war called him away, and he was unable to return until after Jacob was born.

That was when the bliss began to fade. Something about Beatrice had changed; the mirth that was in her eyes, the laughter that filled her voice, the youth that painted her cheeks…it all began to fade. Erik began to notice that his mistress was not warm and caring, but cold and manipulative. She used her charms and beauty to get her way, and when she was unable to have her way, she would pout and throw fiery tantrums, just like a spoiled child. Two years passed, and Beatrice was found to be with child again. Erik's joy over this announcement was not as obvious as the last; Beatrice made it plain that she was not happy with the pregnancy, and Erik began to see a growing resentment that the woman held for him.

It didn't help that he was being called away so often, either. The Jackal, a pirate Erik had fought in the past, had returned to the King's shores, and Erik was the only knight whom the King trusted with ridding the country of the terrorizing villain. There was a fateful battle, near Winterbourne's own shores, where Erik and The Jackal sparred for what felt like hours. The Jackal was a tall man, thin, but quick on his feet, and extremely cunning. He kept his face hidden by a scarlet cloth that he used to cover the lower portion of his face, only revealing his eyes…two large black holes, that held no soul or human warmth.

Erik stiffened as he recalled how the battle had played out. The Jackal had gotten away…and only because of the "gift" that he had given the Black Knight.

Erik vowed his revenge against the bloodthirsty pirate, not only for what he had done to him, but also to what he had done to his home. Just like the horrible nightmare that his mind had recalled, Beatrice, his lover, the mother of his children…shunned him from that day forth.

She looked upon him with disgust. She refused to share the same bed with him, she would not allow him to touch her, and she rarely looked into his eyes. After Helena was born…everything completely fell apart. Erik realized that love was a curse, that it made men weak, and that women used it as a way to manipulate and deceive others. He vowed to himself that he would never let his guard down and that he would NEVER love again…

But that was before Christine.

Christine; his sweet, beautiful Christine. _She is not like the others. She has proven that to you, over and over! When you thought that she had run away, she hadn't. When you believed that she was going to leap to her death, you were proven wrong. When you confronted her about Sir Raoul…didn't she prove to you that she is unlike Elizabeth? She's loyal and true, she's embraced your children as if they were her own, she's embraced your home, and…sweet God in heaven…tonight, she embraced you fully, as her husband. _

Was it possible for an angel like her…to love a demon like him?

"Hmmm…"

Erik stiffened as he realized that his angel was stirring. This would be the true test now; how would his sweet wife react when she realized what had occurred between them only a few hours ago?

Christine's eyes began to flutter open. She felt so warm, so safe; she was in her chamber, in her bed, but…something was…

"Good morning."

Christine's eyes went wide and she gasped as she looked up to see where the voice had come from, and a deep, crimson blush, colored her entire face, and a good portion of her body, as her eyes locked with those of the Black Knight.

_My husband. We are truly husband and wife now!_ Her face only darkened as memories from the night before flooded her head. Beautiful, sweet, wicked memories, which would surely cause angels to blush.

Erik studied her as she began to recall everything that had transpired between the two of them from earlier. He looked to see if there was shame, or disgust, or even resentment in her eyes. The task was proving difficult, as she would not look into his eyes.

"M-m-my lord…" Christine murmured past the nervous lump in her throat. They were naked! Both of them, their bodies touching! She clutched the blankets to her breasts, and blushed all the more as the sheet revealed his lower torso, giving her a hint of what lay beneath.

_Silly girl, why are you acting this way? You have shared your body with this man, completely of your own free will, and don't deny that you enjoyed it!_ Christine's blush just continued to darken; nay, she would not deny that. _Don't be such a mouse! Remember, you are Lady Christine von Desslar…truly, now! Look at him! LOOK AT HIM!_

Erik watched with interest at the inner battle that was obviously raging on in his young wife. But he felt his breath catch in his throat as she turned her eyes up to him, her lashes veiling them ever so delicately. Shame? Nay, he found none. Disgust? Nay, that was not there either. Nor did he see resentment, anger, or pain; wonder, warmth, and…thank God, innocence. Her innocence, her beautiful sweet innocence, still remained.

"I-it is s-still d-dark out, my lord," she squeaked, before internally reprimanding herself for how silly she sounded.

Erik could not help but chuckle at her words, and the sound gently shook her body, which was still nestled against his own. "True, but it is still, technically, morning. The sun will be rising in an hour, at the very least."

Christine bit her lip, unsure what to say further. How did wives go about these things? "Oh…well…" she winced, knowing how foolish she sounded.

Erik gazed down at her for another moment, before rising from his place in the bed. Christine gasped as she began to feel his warmth leave her, and she looked up at him with worried eyes. Had she done something to offend him? Was there something she should have said? "My lord, please—"

"Erik."

Christine felt her insides melt at the beautiful, deep way, he addressed her. "Erik," she whispered back, a soft smile lifting at the corners of her mouth. Truly, she thought his name was beautiful.

Erik smiled softly at this, before walking over to a corner of the chamber, where a basin and pitcher lay. Erik could feel his wife's eyes upon him, and he couldn't help but grin as he imagined the way she was blushing. Indeed, Christine was blushing deeply, her eyes locked on her husband's naked form as he moved, with such masculine grace, across her chamber. She also watched with curious fascination, as he took the pitcher and poured the water into the basin, before taking a cloth that hung off the side of the basin, and dipping it into the water. What was he doing? Was he going to wash himself, right there, in front of her?

Christine's blush only darkened further, as her husband turned, holding the basin and cloth in his hands, and began to walk back towards the bed, as if he had always done so. He couldn't help but smile as he noticed that her eyes were staring at particular areas of his body, and then she immediately looked away when she realized he had caught her staring.

"My lord—I mean, Erik…" she tried to keep her voice calm, despite the bashfulness she was feeling. "May I, that is…if I may ask…what…um, what exactly…"

"Lay back, Christine."

The words in Christine's throat died after she heard his gentle yet firm command. Without question or protest, she laid back, her hair fanning out over the pillow, and Erik felt his arousal stir at the beautiful, innocent trust, that her blue eyes reflected as she gazed up at him.

But he pushed his desire away, and concentrated on the task at hand, a task that he had never done before…but with Christine, had been longing to do.

Christine watched with curious and wide eyes, as Sir Erik gently lifted the sheets away from her legs. Her blush darkened all the more as she realized what portions of her body were now on display, but she kept her mouth closed, and her eyes remained focused on him.

Erik felt himself stir once more at the beautiful sight before him. With a gentle hand, he eased her legs apart, very much aware of the fact that her breathing had quickened. "How are you feeling?" he whispered, his eyes locking with hers.

Christine felt her throat go dry at the tender way he spoke to her. She knew exactly what he was asking, and it filled her with such warmth at the way he cared. "A little sore," she murmured truthfully, although her face flooded with color at the answer.

Erik nodded his head. "Relax," he whispered, as he dipped the cloth into the basin, before gently, running it over the skin of her inner thighs, just to give her an idea of what he wanted to do for her.

Christine stiffened at first; the water was a little chilly, and the way he was touching her was extremely intimate, but she could not deny that she was deeply moved by his kind actions, and little by little, she was able to relax as he ran the damp cloth over her thighs, washing away her virgin's blood.

With careful, gentle fingers, Erik washed the delicate flesh between her thighs, wiping away the blood, tenderly massaging the areas where she most likely felt sore, and while doing so, began to softly sing the same song he had sung to her, the night before.

"Your shining eyes…and earthen hair…"

Christine blinked back the tears that were forming in her eyes. No one, no one had ever shown her such kindness before! This was an intimate kindness, a kindness that she was sure few people ever experienced, and yet she was deemed worthy of receiving it.

_I love him more now, than ever before._

Erik glanced up and noticed the tears trickling down her cheeks, and his motions immediately stilled. "Am I hurting you?"

Christine lifted her eyes, moved by his concern, as well as his tenderness, and quickly shook her head, a soft smile spreading across her face. "Nay…I…just…" she wasn't sure how to get the words out. "Thank you," she finally whispered, not sure if she trusted her voice any further.

Erik felt his body relax at her words; he was so tense at the thought that he was somehow causing her pain. He gazed upon her, the tears swimming in the blue depths of her eyes, her hair pillowed like a soft, brown cloud, around her head, her face a beautiful rosy color, and her body, which had allowed the sheets to fall away from her breasts, fully relaxed; never…never had he seen anything more beautiful.

"Erik?"

He was struck by her voice, which brought him out of his thoughts. His name never sounded so wonderful as it did upon her lips. "Yes?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Would you…that is…" she was blushing very deeply, but she took a deep breath, and looked him directly in the eyes, before finally managing to get the words out. "Will you stay with me? At least until the sun rises?" If he left to return to his chamber now, she knew that she would freeze in the cold emptiness of her bed. She never wanted to know what it felt like to sleep in a bed without him, to not feel him holding her as they slept. She only prayed that he would find the idea tolerable, at the very least.

Erik gazed in amazement at the woman before him. In the beginning, Beatrice enjoyed sharing the same bed with him throughout the entire night, but as time went on, it was not uncommon for her to leave in the middle of the night to return to her own chamber. Many husbands and wives who shared intimate passion, would often retreat back to their private chambers after the "business" was finished. Erik had not wanted to leave, in fact, he was planning on staying as well, but to hear Christine's request, to hear the soft plea in her voice…Erik's chest only tightened at the emotion that was welling up inside him.

_Is it possible for such a beauty to love such a monster as me?_ Ah, but she didn't know about his face. Beatrice knew, hence why she looked at him with such disgust. Christine didn't know, and if he had his way, she would never know.

"Erik?" Christine bit her lip, afraid that perhaps she had been too forward with her request. Maybe he wanted to return to his chamber? Maybe he was tired of her? Maybe—

"It would be a great honor, and pleasure…to stay with you and watch the sun rise," he murmured, his voice rich and deep, causing the very bed to tremble from its vibrations.

Christine blushed deeply, but smiled up at him, grateful for his answer, and felt her body melt with joy, as she felt her husband's strong, powerful arms, arms that wielded a mighty sword called Ghost Maker, gently enfold her, and pull her close.

Erik felt the most wonderful sense of peace wash over him, as he cradled Christine close, the blankets wrapped tightly around them, her head pillowed once more against his chest, his own head resting atop hers. "Truly, you do have the most breathtaking view in the whole castle," he murmured, as he gazed out the window, to where a few pink and orange lines began to illuminate the dark sky.

But Christine was not looking at the window, her eyes were focused somewhere else. "Indeed," she murmured, gazing up at him and smiling. Why her husband wore a mask, she did not know, but she prayed that with time, he would not feel the need to hide anything from her…including his own face. She also prayed that with time, she could teach this strong, fearsome warrior, how to love.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, a dark figure stood in the shadows of a far off bedchamber, and gazed at the sleeping bodies that lay nestled in their bed. The figure did not move, nor make any sound, but continued to stare at the sleeping bodies, watching with keen interest at the way their chests rose and fell with each breath. 

Slowly, as if it moved on ghost's feet, the figure walked around the sleeping bodies, making no sound, as it moved from one chamber to another, staring at each and everyone inside. One particular person caught the figure's attention, and without making any noise, the figure glided to where the person slept, and knelt down beside them.

The person made a small sound in their sleep, as the figure ran a hand over their brow. The person's face contorted into one of discomfort as the figure continued to run its hand across their brow. The figure finally paused as its fingers curled within the strands of the person's hair, marveling in its texture and color. For a long moment, the figure gazed down at the person before them, its fingers still twined within the person's curls. The figure reached behind its back, and drew forth a knife that caught the light of the sun's early rays.

With a steady hand, the figure held the knife high over the person's head, its fingers curling tighter within the person's hair. The discomfort on the person's face only began to increase, and slowly, the person's eyes began to flutter open.

With speed that could not be matched, the figure brought the knife down, and a scream erupted throughout the castle.

Jacob was the first to hear it. He sat up straight in his bed, his face pale as the bloodcurdling screams filled his ears. He looked over and saw Charles staring back him from his own bed, looking absolutely terrified. "J-j-j-jacob?"

Jacob threw the covers off and leapt to his feet. Next to the bed was a sword that his father had given him. Ever since his father had shared with him the secret about the mysterious intruder, Jacob felt it best that he keep a sword near him at all times, just in case this intruder attempted to invade once more. Jacob grabbed the sword and ran out of the room, holding it aloft and steady, fully prepared to do battle with whomever approached him.

The screams had died down, and now he could only hear wailing. He listened closely and realized, much to his horror, he knew who exactly was crying! He raced down the hall to the chamber where he could hear the crying, his sword held high, his face contorted in an angry snarl, his body ready to fight—

"Jacob!"

Jacob came to an immediate halt as he gazed up at the giant figure of his father, who stood in the doorway of his sister's bedchamber. "F-f-father?"

Sir Erik was holding his own sword; he too looked fully ready to fight whomever had intruded their home. The Black Knight had heard the pounding footsteps and immediately brandished his sword, however he quickly realized, as the footsteps grew closer, they were in fact his son's. He reached out and put a hand on the boy's shoulder, his son trembling just as much as he was.

"Father? Is Helena—"

"She's alright," Christine murmured from just inside the chamber. Jacob peeked around the corner and saw Christine sitting on the edge of Helena's bed, holding the trembling girl in her arms, rocking her gently and murmuring comforting words in the girl's ear.

Jacob turned to his father, his eyes lit with question. "What happened?"

"Your sister had a nightmare," Erik explained. "When we heard the screams, we came as quickly as possible, but it was only a nightmare."

Jacob relaxed slightly at this, but was still trembling. "She is alright, truly?"

Erik smiled down at his son and nodded his head. "Yes, truly."

Jacob took a deep breath, satisfied with his father's response, but his entire body was still on edge from everything that had occurred. "I best go and calm the others down, just in case," he murmured.

Erik looked at Christine, who nodded her head, and he turned back to his son. "I shall go with you," he smiled, his hand resting on the boy's shoulder, although his body was still trembling with a mix of emotions. Deep in his heart, Erik knew it would be best if he spoke with his younger children; he did not need any of them thinking for another moment that he resented them.

Jacob glanced up at his father and took in the sight of the man next to him. His father's breeches were on, but not strung up, and he wore no shirt or boots. As for Christine, Jacob could have sworn she was wearing what looked like a bed sheet. And then there were the words his father had used: "_we_ came as quickly as possible." Was something going on between the Black Knight and Christine?

Christine continued rocking Helena in her arms. Upon arriving at the child's chamber, she was wailing about a monster that had been looming over her. However, there were no signs of intrusion, no windows open, no muddy footprints, nothing. Helena said she saw no face, only shadows, but she was quite passionate about how she had felt something touching her hair.

Upon waking up, the monster disappeared, and Helena was beginning to wail that the monster was in fact, a ghost, who was haunting them and was jealous of her lovely red hair. Christine simply held the girl in her arms, although she found herself relaxing somewhat at Helena's way of saying how the monster/ghost was jealous of her hair; if Helena was able to concentrate on her hair, then the girl would recover quickly.

"It was only a nightmare," Christine murmured, whispering soothing words into the child's ears. "Hush, Helena, nothing will harm you, not with both your father, and your brother, here to protect you."

Helena sniffled. "It felt so real," she managed to get out, her sobs finally calming down.

"I know, I know," Christine murmured, recalling the horrible nightmares she had had over the last few weeks. "But nothing is going to harm you," she vowed, lifting the girl's face away from her shoulder so that she could look directly into the child's eyes. "I promise you, I will never let any danger come to you."

Helena smiled up at Christine, despite the tears that stained her cheeks. "W-will you sing me one of your songs?"

Christine smiled and brushed a fallen curl away from Helena's forehead. "Of course," she murmured, before easing the girl back down against her pillows. Christine's voice filled the chamber, and told the story of a maiden who had been kidnapped by trolls, but who the troll prince fell in love with. The troll prince helped the maiden escape his kingdom, although it saddened him so. As reward for his valiant and selfless rescue, the maiden kissed him, and the troll prince turned into a man, and the two were married. Christine smiled down at Helena, as the girl sleepily and peacefully smiled up at her when the song had finished.

"You tell the best stories…" Helena murmured. "And I love your voice…"

Christine smiled and bent down to kiss the child's forehead. "Rest, Helena. Your father and I will be near, I promise."

Helena nodded her head, before pulling the blankets up to her chin. Christine rose from the bed and gazed down at the girl, her eyes filled with nothing but love. She turned to walk away, but was stopped by Helena's soft voice.

"Christine?"

Christine paused and turned to face the child. "Yes?"

Helena swallowed the lump in her throat, and looked rather nervous. "Is it…do you mind if…" she paused and took a deep breath. "May I call you...Mother?"

Christine stood frozen in place at the child's words. She didn't realize that she had been holding her breath, until a long, shaky sigh, escaped her lips. "I…I would love that," she whispered, blinking back the tears that now filled her eyes.

Helena smiled, relief washing over her. "Me too," she grinned, before snuggling back under her covers. "Goodnight…Mother."

Christine swallowed the tears that threatened to break forth, and smiled back at Helena. "Sweet dreams…my daughter."


	26. Growing Suspicions

**Summary:** While wedded bliss is what Sir Erik and Christine long to enjoy, the recent threats and mysteries that haunt Winterbourne take precedence...especially when Christine decides to take matters into her own hands...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Growing Suspicions_**

Christine wiped her eyes and leaned against a stone column as she listened to Sir Erik speak soothing words to his children. She was still in shock after Helena's sweet question, her body trembling every time she recalled the young girl's words.

Mother. Helena had called her mother.

Christine knew that Sir Erik had married her because he wanted a mother for his children, and she had long since accepted this fact, but…the thought of actually becoming their mother, had not truly struck her until just now. And it moved her beyond anything she had ever imagined…

"Do you love us, Papa?"

Christine was shaken from her thoughts as she heard little Sabrina's young voice ring out, like a small, clear bell. She held her breath, waiting for Sir Erik's answer, knowing in her heart what his answer would be, but waiting breathlessly to hear him say the words.

Erik, who was sitting in his daughters' bedchamber, with both Jacob and Charles standing by his side, was shocked by his young daughter's question. His eyes immediately flew to Jacob, who caught his father's gaze, before looking down at the floor, his face written in sadness. Erik remembered all the words that had transpired between himself and Jacob when the boy had come to his chamber earlier; actions weren't enough for him to show his children how much they meant to him—they needed to hear the words too.

Erik looked down at his daughter, who was gazing up at him with large green eyes, eyes that were filled with hope and expectation at what her father would say. Without a word, Sir Erik reached down, and picked Sabrina up, until she was nestled on his lap. Before Sarah could protest, the Black Knight also picked her up, and settled her on his other knee, before addressing them all.

"Understand this," he murmured, his voice deep, yet soft. "All of you…every single one of you…mean more to me than life itself. I would do anything for you, _anything_," he vowed, a growl rising up in his voice as he remembered the mysterious scroll that had held The Jackal's seal. "You are my greatest joy," he whispered, but his voice was strong and sure. "I know that I have not been a proper father, I know that I have left all of you, often in the care of servants, to fight battles or survey villages, as ordered by His Majesty. And during those times when I was here…I…" his voice caught, and outside in the hall, Christine struggled to swallow the emotional lump that was lodged in her own throat. "…I was afraid," he finally confessed. "Afraid of how to be a father…unsure what to say…unsure what to do…" he lifted his eyes heavenward, swallowing once more, before returning his gaze to his children, each of them looking up at him in amazement. "That man…that man who never played with you…who never ate with you…who…who ignored you…" he managed to shakily get out. "That man is no more. The father who played 'Knights and Dragons' with you…he is the man who sits before you now, he is the father that you should have had, and that you WILL have, from this day on," he vowed, his eyes fiercely holding the gaze of each child before him.

Jacob felt his chest swell with pride, as he looked at the way his younger brother and sisters gazed up at their father with such admiration and love. And he too also looked at his father this way; the man he had once hated was no more. Thanks to Christine, the father they loved was there for good.

"Understand this," Sir Erik murmured, his gaze softening just slightly. "There will still be times when the King will call me away…but know that I am thinking of each and everyone of you…that I am counting the hours, from the very second I depart, to when I will be home, once more, with all of you," he then turned his gaze back to his daughter, who was looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. "And yes, Sabrina, I do love you…I love all of you, I always have. I just…never knew how to tell you, until now."

Christine let out a long, shaky breath, as her husband's words echoed throughout the small bedchamber. She smiled and wiped her eyes once more as she heard tearful, loving murmurs escape the children's lips, as they hugged their father tightly.

_They know, now_. Christine smiled at this thought and hugged her arms tightly around herself. Truly, they had become a family.

"You should all get some sleep," Erik murmured, his voice struggling to keep control, despite the great emotions that were swelling within him. "I know that it is dawn, but I think a few extra hours of rest won't do us any harm."

The children were feeling rather tired, especially after being awoken by Helena's frightful screams. The boys returned to their chamber, while Sir Erik kissed the foreheads of his daughters, before tucking them back into their beds. Christine watched, her heart overflowing with love for her masked husband, as he slowly exited the chamber. Inside, she felt a glimmer of hope rise within her heart; perhaps one day, he too would murmur such a loving oath to her…

Sir Erik appeared around the stone column that Christine had been hiding behind, causing the young woman to jump in surprise. It still amazed her how a man of his great size could move about so quietly.

"Has Helena gone back to sleep?"

Christine nodded her head, a deep blush washing over her cheeks as he looked down at her with such intensity. She was suddenly aware, once again, that she was only wearing a bed sheet to hide her nudity…and from the way he was looking at her, it seemed he could see right through it.

The recent events with the children had distracted the Black Knight from the recent events that had taken place between himself and his young bride. Now, as he gazed upon her glowing face, which had turned a beautiful pink color, he could feel his desire growing once more. He was well aware that beneath that sheet, she was completely naked, and it was extremely tempting to take her up in his arms, and carry her back to his bedchamber so that they could continue their newfound wedded bliss. After all, they had been married for several weeks…and there were many nights to make up for…

But sadly, now was not the time. The children had gone back to bed, but they would be up and about shortly. The servants were already going about their early morning chores, and while he knew they would not dare to gossip in his presence, he did not wish for Christine to be embarrassed. And there was still the mystery involving the infamous scroll, a mystery that had been heightened after Helena's mysterious nightmare…

"Come…" Erik murmured, his large hand falling across Christine's back. "The day is only beginning…but I fear it shall not be easy."

Christine's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her husband's large, warm fingers, but she shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. He was right, of course; now was not the time for girlish romantic fantasies.

As Sir Erik escorted her back to her chamber, Christine's mind began to piece together the many mysteries that she had been learning over the last few weeks:

_Sir Raoul's mysterious appearance, and his revelation that Sir Erik had been married before._

_The mysterious disappearances of both Beatrice and Elizabeth._

_And now, someone who called themselves The Jackal, leaving frightening messages for Sir Erik to find._

All the mysteries seemed vastly different…and yet, Christine had a strange feeling that somehow…they were also connected.

"Erik?" she turned to him, her eyes filled with question. "What did the scroll say, exactly?"

Erik was caught off guard by his wife's sudden question. She had been walking alongside him so silently, and now, as they stood just outside her chamber, she asked him the last thing he thought she would ask. "Nothing you need to worry about," he murmured, before opening the door.

Christine shook her head. "Nay, I want to know. Please, tell me what it said."

Erik clenched his jaw. "I will handle it, Christine. Don't worry—"

"Stop saying that!" Christine practically shouted, her eyes darkening with frustration at the way he was shutting her out. "I am not a child, Erik! I am your wife and I have a right to know!"

Erik was not in the mood for a fight, and yet it seemed that a battle was inevitable. "Christine, hear me now: I am the master of this castle, I am your husband, and I have the final word!"

Christine squared her shoulders, ignoring the angry growls she heard in his voice. "They are my children too!" she spat back. "Or am I not their mother any longer?"

Erik groaned. "Christine, you know that's not what I—"

"Good!" Christine pushed her way past him, and without a moment's hesitation, dropped the sheet she had been wearing, as she marched over to her wardrobe, fully aware that he was staring at her from behind. "I am glad that is settled," she grumbled, as she selected a gown.

Erik swallowed as he watched Christine move about the chamber with such ease, with not a care in the world that she was naked. He felt his body grow hard once more as the memory of her naked flesh beneath his own, returned.

"As their mother, I need to know about the dangers that threaten my family," she continued, before slipping her shift over her head. "Therefore, I need to know exactly what that scroll said."

The spell that had captured Erik had been broken by Christine's words. She was an innocent, yes, but it seemed she had also learned a woman's strategic methods for distracting her husband. "Christine—"

"It had The Jackal's seal on it…" she continued as she began to slip a blue gown over her shoulders. "And yet you claim the man is dead—"

"He IS dead, I killed him myself!"

Christine lifted her eyes to her husband then, and Erik hissed out a curse. This was the very thing he didn't want to tell her; he didn't want her to look at him like a bloodthirsty monster, he had already revealed to her that when he was younger, he enjoyed slaughtering enemies, but he did not wish to press the issue into reality. Last night she had given him her body, she had given him her heart; he would die if she came to see him as the monster he knew he was…

"I know," she whispered.

Erik had turned his face away, but immediately caught her eyes, his own wide with surprise. "You do?" he was sure he had not revealed to her that The Jackal had died by the end of his own sword.

Christine nodded her head. "I could see it in your face, when you told me the story," she whispered. "I saw the pain of the memory…" she slowly walked over to him, and Erik held his breath as Christine lifted her hand to touch his masked cheek. "I can not imagine how horrible it must have been…"

Erik stumbled back, not wishing to be reminded of The Jackal's "gift", nor did he feel worthy of Christine's pity.

Christine bit her lip, and watched the strong, broad shoulders of her husband, sag as if a great weight had been placed upon them. A great weight that no doubt carried many painful memories of the past. "I want to help, Erik. I want to help you with protecting our children and our home. Please…"

Erik stiffened as she felt Christine's soft fingers touch his arm. No, no, she could not help, she could not learn anything! Learning anything about the past would lead to her learning about…about…

_NO! I have just found her…I will not lose her because of that!_

"Erik?" Christine watched in horror as he grabbed a hold of his tunic and threw the door open, before marching out and slamming it behind him, the sound causing the very stones at her feet to tremble.

* * *

Meg kept glancing at Christine's reflection, as she went about the task of combing her new mistress' hair. The poor girl looked troubled, and Meg yearned to help her friend in any way possible.

"Christine…if this tension between you and Sir Erik is because of Robert and myself…perhaps it is for the best that we move on?"

Christine was shaken from her thoughts at Meg's words. "Nay, Meg, I promise you, you are the last thing on Sir Erik's mind. And I will not hear it; you and Robert are staying, besides, your time is very near, you can't possibly travel now!"

Meg smiled at this and lovingly ran her hand across her swollen stomach, but she still looked at her friend with worry. "Christine, you know that any secrets you reveal to me, will remain exactly that. You are my dearest friend, I will not gossip anything to the other servants," she looked intensely at the brunette's reflection. "Did something happen last night?"

A sudden blush covered Christine's face, and Meg's eyes went wide. She didn't have to be told what Christine's blush meant. "Christine!" Meg practically hissed, before spinning the young woman around until they were facing each other. "It wasn't your first time, was it?"

Christine's blush only darkened, and Meg's eyes went even wider. "But…but you have been married for…for weeks, now!"

"Meg, please…" Christine was so embarrassed.

Meg's curiosity, however, was only heightened by her new mistress' silent revelation. "Oh Christine, are you all right?" she bit her lip, her face holding nothing but concern for her friend. "Was he rough?" The Black Knight was a large, fierce man, and Meg felt her blood boil with anger at the thought that he had not been gentle with Christine. "I know this may sound embarrassing, but Mama did teach me how to make a tonic to help ease the pain of—"

"I'm fine, truly!" Christine hissed, her cheeks a dark shade of crimson. "Sir Erik was not rough! He was…" she blushed even more at the memories, and her words became extremely soft. "He…he was very gentle, actually," she whispered. "And…and very caring…"

Meg stared at her friend, her expression changing from concern, to surprise, to fascination. "Really?" she found herself giggling, and she quickly knelt down in front of her friend, a large, curious grin, spreading across her face. "Did you enjoy it?"

"MEG!" Christine gasped in shock at her friend's question, sure her face was redder than a strawberry. "You can not be serious!"

Meg couldn't help but giggle. "There's no shame in enjoying it," she grinned. "I enjoy it very much with Robert," she giggled, which only caused Christine to blush further. "What did you enjoy the most?"

Christine rose from her chair so quickly that it tumbled over with a loud thump. "I think this conversation is finished," she mumbled, walking immediately over to the window to get some air.

Meg couldn't stop giggling as she watched her flustered friend lean out to cool her face from the heated flush that covered her cheeks. "Well," Meg sighed, taking Christine's chair for herself to rest her sore back. "I must say, I am very happy to hear that it wasn't…unpleasant," she grinned. There was no doubt in Meg's mind that last night had been _more_ than pleasant between her friend and Sir Erik. Yet the concern that she had been feeling earlier returned. "Christine, forgive me, I promise I am done teasing…but…is that what is troubling you? What happened last night?"

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing that her friend only wanted to help her. She was so grateful that Meg was there now; Anne and Ophelia were wonderful friends, but they didn't know her the way Meg knew her. "Oh Meg, no…it's not that," she turned her face back to her friend's, her cheeks still bright, but a smile spreading across her face. "It was wonderful, actually," she confessed. "I…I never knew that…that anything could feel like that…"

Meg grinned. "Oh Christine, I must confess, I was so worried for you when you left Baron de Coleville's. I was happy that you were getting out of there and away from Philippe, but…" she bit her lip. "The Black Knight has an infamous reputation, I feared his actions in the bedroom would not be so different from his actions on the battlefield."

Christine blushed, but smiled at her friend. "Oh Meg, I…Sir Erik is a good man, truly. Like his face, he keeps his emotions hidden away as well, and yet…every day since I have known him, I have seen that he is certainly not the monster people would have you believe he is. He's a good master to his servants, a good lord to his tenants, a good subject to the King…and a wonderful father to his children."

In the brief time she and Robert had been there, Meg had learned all about Sir Erik's five children. She was shocked to learn that the Black Knight had so many, and even more shocked to learn that once upon a time, they were viewed more as demons than children. But Christine had changed all that, the other servants told her. It seemed that in the few weeks Christine had been there, the young woman had brought many changes to Winterbourne Castle.

"And as a husband?" Meg inquired, eyeing her friend closely. "How is he as a husband?"

Christine looked down at her feet and nibbled on her bottom lip. "He has been good to me, I can not deny that…"

Meg sighed. "Oh Christine, he may be a gentle lover, and for that I am grateful, but there is so much more to a marriage than that."

Christine felt a tear slip down her cheek at Meg's words. "I know," she whispered. "I…it's just…" she lifted her eyes heavenward and quickly wiped her cheeks. "I love him, Meg," she locked eyes with her friend, and Meg felt her breath catch as she saw the deep emotion reflected in the blue depths of Christine's eyes. "I love him with my whole heart…I don't know when it happened, exactly, but it happened. And I'm so afraid…" she wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "I'm so afraid that…that he will never return my feelings…"

Meg didn't wait for Christine to say anything more; she quickly rose from her chair and went to her friend's side, wrapping her arms tightly around the young woman. Christine was so grateful for the kind gesture; she hugged Meg to her fiercely, sniffling back the tears that threatened to fall. "It will be alright," Meg murmured into her friend's ear. "Have faith, Christine. It will not be hard for him to fall in love with you…if he hasn't done so already."

Christine shook her head, pulling herself away. "Oh Meg, you don't understand. I wish it were that simple but…" she sighed and took her friend's hands in her own. "Sit down…this may take a while." And she told her friend everything. She told Meg about learning that the children had different mothers, she told her about the mysterious disappearance of Beatrice, Sir Erik's mistress, she told her about the Black Knight's marriage to Elizabeth, Elizabeth's betrayal, and how the golden-haired beauty had also disappeared. She told Meg about Sir Raoul and the secrets he revealed, she told her about the mysterious note that had been found in the twins' bedchamber, about how it had contained the seal of an old enemy known as The Jackal, and how Sir Erik had revealed that he had killed The Jackal with his own hands. And finally, she told Meg about the strange dream she had had a few nights ago, where the Black Knight's past lovers had visited her, and where Beatrice revealed that she knew a terrible secret, one that Sir Erik wanted to keep hidden more than anything else in the world.

"Oh my…" Meg murmured after Christine had revealed all that she knew. No wonder her friend was troubled with heavy thoughts! "So many questions and very few answers…"

"Indeed," Christine muttered. "And…I wish to help! I care deeply for his children…I love them, all of them," she admitted with a tender smile, which gave way to a sad frown. "But he refuses to let me help, he is determined to keep me in the dark for some reason, and I hate it, because it only arouses my suspicions…towards him!"

Meg knew what her friend meant. "Yes…I can see what you mean. It is strange, these two women disappearing the way they did."

"Exactly," Christine groaned, before collapsing atop her bed. "I am convinced that Sir Raoul wants me to think the worst of him, I believe that is why he came to the castle in the first place, to extract some sort of revenge against Sir Erik."

Meg's brow furrowed as she considered this. "Perhaps…or perhaps Sir Raoul simply wants you to doubt your husband's character. Perhaps Sir Raoul murdered Elizabeth."

Christine shivered at that word. She had not suggested that Elizabeth had been murdered, simply that the woman had mysteriously disappeared. But it was a thought that she, herself, had been guilty of thinking…

"Sir Raoul was very calm when he told me about Elizabeth; I could tell that he thought very highly of her…but when he told me that she had disappeared, something in his eyes, something in his voice…changed. He looked crazed! Mad with jealousy and anger!"

"Aye," Meg nodded her head. "Yet you must keep in mind that he told you what he wanted you to know…and Anne, while I believe she is a more reliable source of information, only knows what she saw. The rest is what she suspected, not what she observed. Sir Raoul may be more sinister than we think…"

Christine nodded her head, a cold shiver running down her spine. "Aye, I do not doubt that," she whispered to herself. "That is why I suspect him as the one who delivered that scroll!"

Meg nodded her head. "That makes sense; based on what Anne told you, Sir Raoul knew Sir Erik well, no doubt he knew about Sir Erik's battles with The Jackal. And what better way to extract revenge on someone than to actually threaten one's children!?"

Christine felt a stab of fury rush through her. They were her children too, and if anyone dared to lay a hand on them…

_The fury of the Black Knight will not be the only thing they will have to worry about!_

"Still…" Meg continued, her brow creased with question. "You say you feel some sort of connection between the disappearances of these women, and the scroll that held The Jackal's seal?"

Christine nodded her head. "It has to be Sir Raoul. When I saw the twins' bedchamber, there were footprints, but the window had been opened, not broken into. And the way he had slipped in and out so easily when I met him…who else could it be? And he has a reason to throw threats, he obviously blames Sir Erik for whatever happened to Elizabeth."

"Aye," Meg murmured. "Even if he is responsible for that mysterious 'disappearance'."

Christine shivered once more. Could it be that Sir Raoul killed Elizabeth? Perhaps she had refused to run away with him. She was a dutiful girl, based on what Anne had told her; perhaps she chose to stay with her family, ashamed of what she had done, and Sir Raoul, in a jealous rage, had murdered her. And now, driven mad by his actions, blamed Sir Erik for it all, and was hell bent on destroying him.

_But Erik said something to me that day when I revealed to him that Sir Raoul had been at the castle. It was as if he were goading me to accuse_ himself _of murder…_

"I see some of the connection," Meg admitted, interrupting Christine's thoughts. "Sir Raoul taking on the guise of The Jackal because he is jealous about Elizabeth makes sense. But…how does that explain the disappearance of Sir Erik's mistress?"

Christine's brow furrowed at Meg's question. Her friend was not wrong; the rest of the puzzle seemed to fit, except for the piece that was Beatrice. "I don't know…" Christine whispered. "I just…I have this feeling. This feeling that somehow…she is connected in all this."

Meg nodded her head. She didn't understand the connection Christine was making, but she would not doubt her friend. "Well, that settles that," she sighed, before rising to her feet.

Christine looked confused. "Settles what?"

"That we must take this mystery upon ourselves and solve it," she said with a grin.

Christine covered her mouth with a gasp, but a smile began to spread beneath her hand, despite the tension she was feeling. "Meg…are you sure this is a good idea?"

Meg shook her head. "Of course not. But like you, I am now determined to solve this puzzle and help you with protecting your new family."

Christine smiled at her friend, and reached out to hug her tightly. "Oh Meg, I don't know what I would do without you," she sighed, meaning every word.

Meg grinned and hugged her friend back, just as tightly. "Sir Erik may not be aware of it, but he clearly does need your help with this matter. And if that means working behind his back, then so be it."

Christine agreed, but she wished it didn't have to be that way. She did feel somewhat guilty for revealing all these secrets. "Meg, you will not tell Robert—"

"I promise, everything you told me is in strict confidence, even from Robert," she swore, squeezing her friend's hand tightly. "Now, I best be getting on with my share of the chores, before any suspicions towards my character arise," she grinned, before leaving Christine alone in her chamber.

Christine sighed and fell back once more against her bed. _I didn't want it to come to this, I didn't want to go behind Erik's back, but…I can't just sit here and not do anything! They are my children now, too! _She turned on her side and hugged the pillow near her. She only prayed that when Sir Erik did discover the truth…for she had no doubt that he would…he would understand that her actions were done out of love.

* * *

Erik gazed into the fire that was crackling in the fireplace of his bedchamber. The flames made the gold in his eyes look like liquid fire, and fire was what he felt, coursing in his veins, pounding in his head, and kindling in his loins.

Sweet memories of Christine's body, her voice, her touch, her eyes, everything; they were haunting him now. And inside, he heard a demon hiss and mock him, calling him monster, and tutting at his weakness for her. He had given in to his desire, he had allowed the innocent beauty that he had married, to get under his skin, and now…now he was hopelessly lost. After one night with Christine, nay…after one kiss from Christine, Erik knew he could not end it there. He wanted her, he needed her…and yet, he could not have her. _Not all of me…for she can never know about _all_ of me._

Erik groaned and gazed with fiery hatred at the very object he held in his right hand. Many believed that the sword he named Ghost Maker, was the Black Knight's greatest tool of defense. But they were wrong. This small, white shield that he held in his hand…this was his greatest defense. And without it…he dared not wish to think of such things.

_She asks for so little, she has done so much for you_, cried out a voice within his heart. But Erik knew better than to listen to it. She said she simply wanted to help him, but by allowing her to do that, meant answering questions and revealing certain truths he was not prepared to reveal. And one question would lead to another, and another, and another, until…

_She is my sweet innocent; my last hope for happiness, if a creature such as myself can have it. She finds out about_ that…_and those sweet words I heard her murmur the night before will never be murmured again._

Nay, too much was at risk. Besides, it was _his_ duty to protect his wife and children, and his duty alone.

"My lord?"

Erik was shaken from his thoughts by the loud pounding on his chamber's door. He quickly placed the mask back over his face, before muttering, "Enter!" and rising from his chair to greet his steward.

Bernard entered upon his master's order, and held out a scroll. Erik's eyes immediately went wide, assuming that the scroll was yet another message from The Jackal…or whoever was pretending to be The Jackal. But his heartbeat returned to normal as he realized that the seal was that of his own household, and that the scroll had come from his spies who remained in Valmour.

"Any news?" Erik muttered, before taking the scroll out of Bernard's hands.

Bernard sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Which is what I find most perplexing," he grumbled, before stroking his beard with thought. "It appears that the village has not changed since we left; the villagers remain silent, as if something is still hovering around them, haunting them, but…our spies have seen nothing unusual. No strange ships, no mysterious visitors who only travel by night, and several times they have gone down to those caves, and have found nothing. It's an absolute puzzlement!" he groaned, throwing up his hands in frustration.

Erik tossed the scroll onto a nearby table and gazed down at the map that adorned it, a map of the coastline that traveled all the way from his own castle, to the village of Valmour.

"Perhaps the villains have moved on?" Bernard suggested, also gazing down at the map. "There are some caves just south of Valmour—"

"Nay," Erik growled. "The villagers still live in fear, and we know now that it has nothing to do with me. Something is terrorizing them, but whatever it is…it chooses to remain unseen."

"Like a ghost," Bernard whispered.

Erik stiffened at his friend's words, remembering the ghostly message by the supposed Jackal. He refused to believe that The Jackal was still alive, but whatever was frightening the people of Valmour…and whoever had left him that message…it certainly seemed that there was a link between the two incidents. And he could not deny that Bernard was right about one thing; the atmosphere that presently haunted Valmour was not different from the time when The Jackal, the _real_ and _living_ Jackal, terrorized the tiny seaside village.

"What shall we inform His Majesty?" Bernard asked. But before Sir Erik could open his mouth to respond, there came another loud pounding on his door. Erik groaned and barked admittance, surprised to see that the pounding had come from Anne.

"I'm sorry to disturb ye Master, but…I think ye better come to the great hall at once."

Erik narrowed his eyes, not liking Anne's worried tone. "What is it?" he was already reaching for his sword, which lay resting against the fireplace.

Anne bit her lip and wrung her hands together. "I did not know them when they entered; they seemed friendly, and…and they seemed to know her—"

Erik gripped the old woman's shoulders, his eyes smoldering at the mention of the word "her". "Who, Anne, tell me who!"

Anne gazed up at Sir Erik, her worried expression unchanging. "The guards said they were family of her ladyship. They knew Lady Christine's name, and where she had come from. They seemed friendly, but…the second her ladyship entered the great hall…" Anne trembled as she recalled how pale Christine's face became upon seeing her mysterious visitors.

Erik felt his jaw tighten at these words, and he gripped his sword when Anne described how Christine's visitors had silver blonde hair…much like Carlotta de Coleville.

"Master, had I known that they would upset her, I would never—" but the old woman never finished her sentence; Sir Erik was already stomping down the hallway, his sword drawn and ready.

Anne swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, whispering to herself, "I've never seen someone look more frightened in her life…"


	27. Heroes and Heroines

**Summary: **Christine receives two unwelcomed visitors, and more is revealed about Sir Erik's past...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Heroes and Heroines_**

"_Erik…? Have you been listening to a word that I've said?"_

_Erik lifted his head, his eyes going wide as he realized he was being spoken too. His eyes had been locked with that of the raging sea outside, a mighty winter's tempest bashing the cliffs beneath Winterbourne. If only that storm could beat away the ghosts that haunted him…_

"_Erik?"_

_Erik shook his head, and turned his attention back, once more, to his guest. "I apologize Raoul, my mind…it was on other matters."_

_Sir Raoul de Chegny sighed and shook his head in dismay. "I can't believe you Erik, after everything…I can't believe that you still think about her."_

_Erik growled at the way his friend spoke of the lady who he had loved for so many years. "Leave me be," he warned, before grasping the wine goblet in front of him and downing the contents it held in one gulp. _

_Raoul shook his head in disbelief, studying his friend carefully. "I've known you for many years, Erik; from the time we were training to be knights at the age of fourteen, I've known you. I've proudly fought alongside you in many battles, there is no greater general I could serve under, not even your own father, God rest his soul." _

_Erik grunted, waiting for the inevitable. _

"_You're a strong leader, and clearly the King's favorite," Raoul added, with a slight hint of envy. "You don't need advisors, you're clearly intelligent and trustworthy…and yet…well, good God man, you have to let her go and move on!"_

_Erik stood abruptly from the chair he had been sitting in, so quickly that the chair toppled over. His gold gaze was fierce, and it penetrated Raoul's very soul. The handsome blonde knight felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end from the ferocious stare that the Black Knight was giving. No words were spoken; Sir Erik simply glared at his friend, before marching over to the window and leaning against the stone frame._

_Raoul swallowed the nervous lump in his throat; he knew that he was playing with fire for even bringing up the subject of Beatrice. But for three years, Erik had become even more of a recluse than he had ever been, venturing outside of Winterbourne only when the King summoned him to do so. Bernard, Sir Erik's steward and closest friend, was growing quite worried for the dark warrior, and had begged Sir Raoul to come to Winterbourne to try and talk some sense into the Black Knight…but it seemed that the quest was going to be futile._

_Raoul decided he needed to approach this matter in a completely different light. "There is a young lady of the house of Tradeu…just turned sixteen, from what I understand. Lovely girl by the name of Juliet, I believe. I've heard she has long, beautiful raven hair, and eyes that would rival an emerald—"_

"_I'm not interested," Erik growled, his voice filled with warning as his gaze remained locked with the storm that raged outside._

_Raoul sighed and slowly began to rise from his chair. "Erik, I would never dream of dictating what you ought to do with your life…but…forgive me, you need a wife."_

_Erik's hand gripped the stone windowsill. "This, from the self-proclaimed bachelor," he practically spat._

_Raoul winced just slightly at this. "You know that's not true; I would gladly marry if I could, 'tis simply that my fortune is nowhere near as hearty as yours…" there was that hint of envy again. "A few more wars and I'll be wealthy enough to properly obtain the approval of many a noble father—"_

"_Good," Erik growled. "Then go off to war, make your fortune, and return so you can marry the lovely Juliet."_

_Raoul sighed, knowing that he would have to change his approach. "Erik, this is not about me, and you know it! Look, at least…" he glanced up towards a passage that he knew led to the bedchambers of Jacob and Helena. "At least consider your children!"_

_Erik rounded on Raoul then, and gripped the blonde knight by the shoulders. "I DO consider them!" he practically roared, before roughly pushing the handsome knight away from him. Raoul was shaken by Erik's sudden outburst, and immediately backed away from the dark giant that looked hell bent on murdering the next person who came within reaching distance. "Don't you EVER assume ONCE that I do not think of my son and daughter! Since…since…" Erik could not bring himself to say the words. "They are all that I have LEFT of her!" he growled, before turning his back on his friend once more. "And all the memory of the good I thought she had…" he muttered to himself._

_Raoul was stunned by Erik's attack. He had known the Black Knight to have a ferocious temper, but it had always been saved for the battlefield; never had he witnessed the complete inner destruction of a man, which was exactly what he was witnessing with Sir Erik. "I don't understand you…" Raoul muttered, making sure there was a great deal of distance between himself and the Black Knight. "She betrayed you! She formed a union with your greatest enemy! She…she is responsible for_ that_!" he accused, pointing at the image of Sir Erik's mask, reflected in the window's glass. "She does not deserve the grief that you have been harboring all these years!"_

"_IT'S NOT ABOUT HER!" Erik roared, turning to face the handsome knight whose very face he now had grown to loathe. Raoul had done nothing wrong, but his perfect looks were simply another reminder of the wretched scars that now tainted his flesh and soul. _

_Erik took a deep breath, before letting his mighty shoulders sag with utter defeat. A part of him longed to march over to where Sir Raoul stood and beat the man within an inch of his life; but the part of him that Erik prayed was still human…restrained him from doing so. "Tell me, Raoul…have you ever believed yourself to be in love?"_

_Raoul was surprised by Erik's question. "Nay…" he murmured. "I…there have been many women that I have desired, but…I can not say that I have ever…felt…love for them…"_

_Erik nodded his head. "It is a curse," he spat. "Be thankful you have not experienced its stab," he growled, turning his gaze now to the blazing fireplace. "When I met Beatrice…I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the whole world. It pained me to learn that she was my father's mistress, and it pained me even more when she made it obvious that she desired me," he began to chuckle at this. "I was never a handsome man, even before…" his fingers gestured to the mask that covered the right side of his face. "It was so tempting…to accept her offers, but I refused, out of duty to my father."_

_Raoul said nothing; he knew the story of how Erik and Beatrice had met. He even remembered Erik telling him all about the beautiful woman at his father's castle when the two of them joined the King's army for the first time since they had begun their training. Raoul had met Beatrice for the first time at the funeral of Lord Edwin, and he could not deny that the woman was beautiful. But there was something about her, something…cold, and untrustworthy. _

"_My father warned me about her," Erik muttered. "He told me to not trust my heart with her…but the fool that I am, I didn't listen."_

"_You were young, Erik, and she used her beauty as a means to manipulate—"_

"_Young, yes, but I was a soldier, trained by the King's own army, I knew all about enemy strategies, including manipulation! I should have seen her…her…" the muscles in his neck were throbbing as he recalled her manipulations. "I should have seen her betrayal…long before it happened," he spat with disgust. "But nay…I was blinded, because I believed I was in love…and that she loved me."_

_Raoul sighed, unsure what to say. A cold silence fell over the room, as Erik locked his eyes with the flames that danced in the fireplace. "I'll never forget her last words…as the King's own men dragged her away," he whispered._

_Raoul barely caught Erik's words; he had to cock his head to one side to make sure he had heard correctly. "Her words?" he asked. _

"_Aye," Erik growled, the memory of that fateful night replaying itself once more in his mind. He had cornered her, he knew the truth about everything, about her betrayal, about her true allegiance, and for the first time since he had known Beatrice, he had the upper hand. She was completely taken by surprise when she realized that she was surrounded by the King's own personal soldiers, who had been summoned by a secret message to take her prisoner. "She cursed me," he whispered. "She swore that her ghost would haunt me for the rest of my life, that she would return for her children, and that I would taste The Jackal's blade once more…"_

"_But surely you didn't believe her," Raoul interrupted, trying to bring some mirth to the situation by chuckling, but one look from Erik, and the handsome knight realized, much to his horror, that the Black Knight did. "Erik…you can not be serious. The Jackal is dead, and the King would have seen to Beatrice's execution—"_

"_Because of ME!" Erik roared, pounding his fist so hard against the stone mantle of the fireplace that the very rock seemed to crack. "Don't you understand? Every night, since the King's soldiers took her away, I have not slept peacefully. My dreams are plagued by her, she haunts this place just as she vowed!" He gripped the mantle with both hands, his back to Sir Raoul, his shoulders slumped, his eyes catching the reflection of the fire's dancing flames. "Beatrice has kept her word, and I am paying for not following my father's advice. I opened myself up to her, I allowed my heart to feel, and now…because of my foolishness, I am paying for it."_

_Raoul quickly walked over to fireplace and gripped Erik's shoulder. "She's dead, Erik. She can't harm you, or the children, and The Jackal can't do anything either, despite what she said. They're both dead, Erik, they're gone…and you need to let this…this guilt that you're feeling, go. Take a wife, someone who can be a mother to Jacob and Helena, and who can take your mind off of these things."_

_Erik shrugged Raoul's hand off his shoulder. "I told you, I don't want a wife," he turned and stalked back to the table, grabbing hold of the ale pitcher that had been left for them, and poured more of the dark liquid into his goblet. "I do not think I could even trust a woman, not after what Beatrice did." _

_Raoul sighed once more, seeing that this had been a hopeless cause. "Very well, I have at least spoken my peace, and will be on my way. Just…think about what I have said, Erik. At least a wife would do you good in relieving some of the stress—"_

_Raoul was surprised by Erik's thunderous laughter that now filled the room. Had he said something that was humorous? Erik took another gulp from his cup, before turning his attention to the handsome blonde knight. "You think I need a wife to relieve the stress in which you are referring?" he laughed again, and Raoul felt his face flush with heat. "I may not be handsome like you," Erik growled, amusement still hinted in his dark voice. "But believe me, there are many ladies of the night, who, for the right price, are more than willing to relieve a man's 'stress', as you call it. Even if the man looks like me."_

_Raoul's face darkened even more. "Erik, I did not mean to imply that—"_

_But any other words were interrupted, when a great pounding sounded on the room's door. Sir Erik squinted his eyes, unsure exactly who would be disturbing them at this late hour, but before he could even take a step towards the door, it burst open, and Anne came rushing in, looking shocked and desperate._

"_Oh! Oh my lord, forgive me for intruding, but…please, you must come quickly!"_

_Erik glanced at Raoul in confusion, before grabbing his sword and following the old woman at a quick pace, following her into the great hall, where…much to his shock, stood a young girl, holding a screaming bundle in her arms._

"_What the devil!?" Erik asked, his grip loosening just slightly on his sword, as he stared at the screaming creature. "What is that, and how did it get here?"_

_The girl looked up and bit her lip, clearly afraid to speak to the dark giant that was obviously fuming with questions. Anne spoke on her behalf. "This girl comes from Valmour," Anne explained. "She is a maid at one of the village inns, and she was told to…" Anne paused, preparing herself for the rising storm. "She was told to bring your son, to Winterbourne Castle."_

_Raoul had just entered the great hall, and stopped dead in his tracks at the old woman's words. "Son?" _

_Erik groaned and began shaking his head in utter frustration. His eyes caught those of the trembling girl's and without warning, reached out and gripped her shoulders. "Who sent you? Answer my question quickly, and I will be merciful," he growled, causing the girl's eyes to grow even wider._

"_I…I…" the girl's voice was trembling with fear. "S-s-she did not s-say her name…just…t-that you…and she…" she blushed deeply and glanced at Anne for help. _

"_The woman was a prostitute," Anne muttered under her breath so only Erik could hear. _

_Erik's eyes widened with disbelief at this. He was being held responsible for the little screaming demon? It could not be possible; surely he was not the lady's only customer…_

"_S-she said, 't-the man w-w-with the mask…is the father of my child…'" the girl explained. "And b-begged me to b-b-bring him to you."_

_Erik eyed the crying babe, and was shocked by its large amount of raven hair. The child had two large brown eyes, but they didn't strike him as anything familiar. Jacob and Helena had his eyes, eyes he would recognize from anywhere, but this child…how could he know for certain that he was the father? And why should he take the screaming babe?_

"_Is the mother expecting some sort of reward for her 'noble sacrifice'?" Sir Erik grumbled with disgust. He had heard stories about how some women attempted to saddle men, especially men of great fortune, with illegitimate children that they claimed to be theirs, just so that they, themselves, could get something out of the deal. _

_However, the girl's face paled at these words, and she quickly shook her head. "Nay…she is dead, my lord."_

_Erik's breath caught in his throat. "Dead?" _

_The girl nodded her head. "She died, moments after the child was born," the girl explained. "Her last words were to…to bring him here."_

_Erik was utterly speechless. Raoul came around his side and gazed down at the screaming babe, his handsome face wearing an expression of absolute shock. "This child could be anyone's, Erik," he hissed into the Black Knight's ear. "How can you be sure that this woman even speaks the truth?"_

_Erik was thinking the same thing, but he could not take his eyes off the screaming creature, and much to the shock of everyone, without warning, reached out and took the boy in his arms. _

_Both Anne and the girl made a motion to reach out and take the child back, but Raoul reached forward and stopped them from doing so. Erik lifted the child up until the tiny boy's face was at the same level as his own. Amazingly enough, the child had ceased his crying._

"_Charles…" Erik whispered._

_Anne blinked several times, before she finally found her voice. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"_

"_His name is Charles," Erik repeated, his voice stronger and clearer. "And he is my son."_

_The girl looked shocked that the dreaded Black Knight who she had heard about through so many horrific tales, was standing there and claiming the tiny boy, a boy who could truly be anyone's son…as his own. Anne's expression kept changing from one of surprise, to one of emotional pride. And Raoul…_

_Raoul was absolutely stunned by it all. "Do consider what I have said," he muttered into Sir Erik's ear. "I think you need a wife now…more than ever before."_

* * *

Sir Erik was fuming, fuming with rage. If what Anne said was true about his wife's 'visitors', he was fully prepared to use Ghost Maker on them, no questions asked. It occurred to him, then, as he was stalking down the long hallway that would empty out into the great hall, that he knew very little about Christine.

He knew she was a servant, before she became his wife. He knew that her dearest family were those two new servants that had arrived at his doorstep only a day ago, and he knew that her life at Pierre de Coleville's had been absolute hell. Why exactly? He did not have the answer to that question, but right now, he didn't care for an answer, he only cared for her safety.

He finally reached the end of the hallway, and was prepared to take the steps, two at a time, when he felt a strong arm grip his shoulders and pull him back.

"Wait, my lord!" hissed Bernard, who was using all his strength to hold Sir Erik back.

"Release me!" Erik hissed back, but his struggles came to a halt as two foreign voices filled the hall just beneath them.

"Oh Christine…are you just going to stand there?" giggled a woman's voice. "Aren't you going to greet your dear, former mistress?"

Erik growled at the sound of Carlotta de Coleville's voice. He remembered her thirst for blood, how she had wanted to beat Christine within an inch of her life, after the poor girl had been caught in the deceitful plan that Carlotta, herself, had concocted. But it was next voice that truly had him trembling with rage…

"We have missed you, my dear," murmured a man's voice, one that held cold promises that made Erik's blood boil with fury.

He struggled against the restraint of Bernard's grip, but his steward held him fast. "Just wait, my lord!" Bernard hissed. "Let us see how Lady Christine handles the situation."

Erik continued struggling, not caring for what Bernard said, however, he was struck with shock as his wife's voice filled the room, strong and clear.

"Indeed," Christine spoke; calling upon all her strength as she gazed back at the two people she despised most in this world. "Carlotta…Philippe…I must say, this is a surprise," she admitted, quite truthfully. "The announcement of your arrival must have gotten lost on its journey here." She knew in her heart that no announcement had been sent; Carlotta and Philippe would never follow the proper rules of guest etiquette. However, she was not about to allow them to bully her in her own home.

_I am no longer a servant that they can intimidate; I am Lady Christine von Desslar, wife of the Black Knight, mistress of Winterbourne Castle. And that is exactly who they will get!_

"Come, won't you have a seat?" Christine offered. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I will have one of the servants bring you something to drink."

Carlotta glanced up at her older brother, her dark eyes flashing with confusion, but he remained cool and calm, and followed Christine's gesture to the table and chairs that she had offered. "Why thank you, Lady von Desslar," Philippe bowed, before taking his seat. Carlotta started to pout, but one look from her brother told her to curtsy, so she did, before taking her seat opposite of him. "You are gracious hostess; I can see that you will carry on the hospitality that Winterbourne is known for."

Erik growled at the man's words. He did know who the young man was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the voice may in fact belong to the young man who had the same flaxen blonde hair that Carlotta had, and who stood at the back of the de Coleville's chapel, and who gave Christine a look that Erik clearly remembered, he did not like.

"Hold fast, my lord," Bernard whispered into his friend's ear. "We must allow Lady Christine to handle this; these are more her enemies, than yours."

"Her enemies _are_ my enemies," Erik snarled, but his struggles ceased then, and much to Bernard's surprise, he retreated his steps, until he was standing on the balcony that overlooked the great hall. Erik felt a growl rise up in his throat as his eyes caught the flaxen hair of the nameless young man from de Coleville's castle.

"Well," Carlotta mumbled, looking around the room. "I must say, Sir Erik does well for himself," she smiled sweetly at Christine, but Christine was not fooled by her former mistress' false smiles. "And to think…this may all have been mine."

"Yes, indeed," Christine sighed happily, smiling at the room around her, truly feeling pride for her new home, but putting on more of a display to infuriate Carlotta. "Winterbourne is beautiful; I know that it can look frightening from the road, but as you can see, it is indeed rich with history and splendor," she said with a sweet smile to match Carlotta's.

Carlotta's smile disappeared, and her eyes flashed with vengeful anger.

"Ah!" Christine smiled as a servant girl entered the room, holding a pitcher of piping hot mead, and a plate filled with fruits, nuts, and cheese. "Thank you, Justine," Christine murmured, before taking the pitcher and plate from the girl.

Carlotta put on another smile, refusing to lose to Christine of all people. "Oh how quaint," she practically purred. "You know the servants names. Oh, well, of course you would, after all, you aren't of noble blood."

Christine knew exactly what Carlotta was doing, but refused to flinch to the girl's words. "True," Christine agreed, while pouring her uninvited guests a goblet of mead. "However, it seems that being once of the servant class, I have a great advantage here at Winterbourne. I have gained the servants' respect, as well as the respect from the tenants that farm off Sir Erik's land. But you know what that feels like, of course, to have the respect of all who serve in your household, to be beloved by others."

Carlotta was fuming, and she looked ready to reach up and rip Christine's hair right off her head! But Philippe reached out and gripped his sister's wrist, before turning his attention to their hostess. "Tell me, Christine, where is Sir Erik?"

Christine eyed Philippe with caution. Carlotta could be manipulative, but she was nowhere near as calculating as her brother. "He is attending to business matters," Christine simply informed, as she passed Philippe his goblet.

Philippe reached out to take the goblet from Christine, but not before his fingers ran over hers. "A pity, truly, for him to not be here, by your side," he murmured, his voice sending cold shivers down Christine's spine.

Above, Sir Erik had not missed the other man's actions, and it took all of Bernard's strength to hold the Black Knight back from leaping over the balcony and running the man through.

Christine snatched her hand back, cursing herself inwardly as she caught Philippe's pleased smile. "Sir Erik will surely be sorry he missed you too," Christine muttered, her eyes flashing a warning to her former master. "Now," she felt it wise to change the subject. "Tell me, how are your parents?"

Carlotta was munching on some nuts and grapes, her mouth open as she chewed, a sight that Sir Erik could not deny was more than disgusting. _As if I ever doubted I made the right choice_, he thought to himself, as his eyes passed from Carlotta to his brave bride.

"Mother and Father are well," Philippe answered, when Carlotta would not. "Sadly, they had to release many servants. We have gone through many changes since you left, Christine…" Philippe added, his eyes never leaving her face. Would Christine reveal that Meg and Robert were now at Winterbourne? He wanted to see Christine's reaction to this piece of news, but his sister stupidly butted in.

"Yes," Carlotta grumbled. "To think, had Sir Erik married me, we would not have to worry about releasing servants. But alas, for some reason, he picked you," Carlotta sighed, before putting on another of her fake smiles and grinning up at Christine.

Christine lifted her chin. Carlotta's insults weren't going to work this time; Sir Erik made her feel beautiful and worthy, and the children made her feel loved and needed. No matter what insults these two threw at her, she would not show any signs of weakness.

"Ah well," Carlotta sighed again, before taking some cheese and popping it into her mouth. "It's just as well, after all, he is quite old."

Christine's eyes darkened at this. "He is a man of thirty-seven years; I would not say he has one foot in the grave, as you seem to imply."

Carlotta was truly grinning now, although it was a grin of mischief and pleasure. "Perhaps not, but he is far too old for me," she smiled, before running her fingers through her long, silver-blonde hair. "But you are not young, Christine, not for a girl anyway," she grinned with wicked amusement. "The two of you are truly well suited for each other."

Christine bit her tongue and counted to ten, before finally opening her mouth to comment. "Thank you, Carlotta," she said, through slightly clipped lips. "I believe you are right, he and I are suited for each other."

Ever since he was brought up into the conversation, Erik had remained frozen in place. Now, as he heard Christine speak, he could not help but feel a slight sense of pride fill him. And another emotion too, one that warmed his heart in a way that he had never truly felt before…

However, Carlotta was not about to allow Christine to have the last word, and was quite delighted to see how her words were having an affect on her former servant. When Christine worked for her, Carlotta took delight in denigrating the girl's looks, calling her stupid, making her feel worthless. But it seemed now, that Christine had a different weakness, one that involved a particular masked knight…

"Indeed, Christine, you are a wealthy woman now," she practically purred. "We are now of the same class, you and I," she sweetly smiled, before surprising both her brother, and Christine, by enfolding the former servant in a giant hug. "I would like to think of ourselves as sisters," Carlotta purred once more, before finally releasing a stunned Christine. "And as such, I want you to know, I harbor no ill feelings for you, even if you did steal my rightful husband."

A voice inside Christine kept telling herself to remain calm; to ignore Carlotta's words; but it was proving to be most difficult. "It was _your_ idea that we deceive Sir Erik," Christine muttered. "And didn't you also say that you believe he and I are suited for each other? After all, you are not mature enough for a man like him."

Erik could not help but grin with pride at his Christine; she was proving to be a fierce warrior.

Carlotta didn't miss the insult Christine threw at her, but she continued to grin sweetly, showing no signs of effect. "Exactly," Carlotta purred. "He would not have been a good husband for me, at all. I mean, especially after everything that I heard about him."

This surprised Christine, and Erik found himself stiffening at the girl's words. "Everything you've heard?" Christine asked, her eyes lit with question. What was Carlotta talking about?

Philippe had been watching the whole scene play out, and he had to give his sister credit. It appeared that Christine did have a new weakness, one that made him grind his teeth with rage, but one that Carlotta was bringing more and more to light.

"Oh of course, everyone knows this…" Carlotta sighed, as she popped another grape into her mouth. "Are you seriously telling me that _you_ don't know?" she asked, with mocked surprise.

Christine's confidence was beginning to disappear, and Erik was beginning to feel the rage sweep through him once more. He had never used his sword against a lady before…but as far as he was concerned, Carlotta was no lady.

"Oh, oh my goodness, you're not joking!" Carlotta gasped, before looking at her brother with shock, and then back at Christine. "But Christine! You are his wife! I would surely think that you of all people would know this!"

Christine despised Carlotta, but right now, she knew without a doubt that she hated the girl. _Don't you dare show her or Philippe your tears! They are not worth it!_

"Sit down, my dear, I shall explain," Carlotta sighed, taking Christine by the hands and pulling her down onto a chair beside her. "I just…I must confess, I am quite shocked that his own wife, Lady von Desslar, is unaware that she is married to a monster."

Erik stiffened, and Christine's face paled. "Monster?"

Carlotta nodded her head. "Of course! Oh, I'm not talking about his dealings on the battlefield, those are monstrous tales indeed, but I'm actually talking about his face."

Erik felt as if someone had run a sword through him. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move; all he could do was watch with horror, as the viper's words attacked a pale and wide-eyed Christine.

"His…his face?"

Philippe was in awe of his sister, and Carlotta felt her chest swell with pride at her startling revelation. "Of course," she continued. "Haven't you ever wondered why he wears a mask?"

Christine had wondered, once, when she first met him. But she never dared to ask him about it; Bernard told her to not even contemplate it. And yet Christine had only one conclusion as to why he wore it, which was to hide something. Something he didn't want her, or anyone for that matter, to see.

"I've heard it's terrible…" Carlotta whispered, trying her hardest to hide the glee in her voice. "I've heard that there is a gash, that starts from the corner of his lip…and that travels all across his cheek, going up, past his eye, and then curving into his brow. I've heard that its red, and oozes pus, I've heard that you can see the bone of his skull! I've heard—"

"That you are lower than a snake? A rat? That your very existence mocks the beauty of God's creation?"

A silence filled the great hall, as everyone, both in the room and standing above on the balcony, stared in stunned amazement at Christine. Even she seemed to be shocked by the very words that escaped her lips, her chest rising and falling as anger pumped in her veins.

Erik was the first to react to the passionate words spoken by Christine. He had been holding his breath the whole time when Carlotta was speaking; he had been bent over with shock, with anger, and with pain. But now…hope, like none he had ever felt before, rose within his heart as he watched his small, meek, innocent bride, emerge as a mighty lioness, prepared to protect what was hers.

Carlotta's face had gone absolutely pale at the insults Christine threw at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Even Philippe, who was sitting just behind his sister, stared in stunned silence at Christine.

"How dare you…" Christine hissed, her eyes darting back and forth between Philippe and Carlotta. "You come here, unannounced, into _my_ home, and even though I despise the both of you for all the wrongs you have done me in life, I welcomed you as a lady should, I offered you food and drink, and you sit there…and insult me!?!"

Carlotta practically fell out of her chair at the way Christine was leaning in and shouting at her. She whimpered and rose from where she sat, running around to cower behind her brother, who was still amazed at this new side of Christine.

"How dare you insult my husband!" Christine shouted, her rage fueling her so greatly, that her arm swept out across the table, sending the plate of food onto the floor. "Have _you_ seen his face, Carlotta? HAVE _YOU_ SEEN HIS FACE!?"

"N-n-nay!" the girl screeched, grabbing hold of her brother's shoulders and ducking as Christine threatened to take the pitcher of mead and throw it in her face.

"I didn't think so," Christine spat with disgust. "And yet you believe the gossip you have been told…why? Because you haven't the brain to think for yourself!"

Philippe carefully rose from his chair, his hands held up in a non-aggressive gesture. "We have not seen his face, but the tales are true, Christine," he calmly murmured, his eyes not once leaving hers.

Christine glared back at him. "I don't care," she hissed. "Even if what you say is true, I don't care!" she pounded the pitcher of mead down onto the table, causing its contents to splash out, and hit Philippe in the face.

Christine was furious; she was pacing back and forth, trying her best to calm herself down, but the rage was still fueling through her, as if her heart were pumping fury, instead of blood. "Sir Erik is no monster!" she shouted, turning an accusing eye on her so-called guests. "He is more of a man than most men! He is certainly more human than the both of you!" she roared, pointing an accusing finger at them. "I don't care what his face looks like beneath his mask…even if there is no flesh and only bone, I don't care! He is my husband, and I will not stand by and have…demons, like yourselves, insult him!"

Philippe and Carlotta both found themselves stumbling backward at Christine's bitter words. "Christine…" Philippe slowly murmured, his voice calm and cool. "Understand that we—"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Christine screamed, pointing her finger towards the main entrance to the castle. "You are the monsters, not he! GET OUT BEFORE I FETCH THE GUARDS ON YOU!"

She was so angry, that hot, frustrated tears, were spilling down her flushed cheeks. She was trembling, her breath coming in short, quick gasps, as if someone had placed a great deal of weight upon her chest. They had to get out of there, before the emotions that were consuming her took their toll, and she crumpled to the ground in utter exhaustion.

"There will be no need for the guards," growled a dark voice from nearby.

A gasp went up from both Christine and the de Coleville siblings, and they turned to see a giant, dark figure, emerge from the shadows near the staircase that led into the great hall.

Carlotta looked like she would faint with fright, if not scream for mercy. Philippe stared wide-eyed as he got another look at the infamous Black Knight, the man who had taken Christine away from him.

Christine had never felt such relief, or surprise, at seeing her husband before. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?

"Bernard?" Sir Erik growled, his eyes not lifting once from Philippe's challenging stare. The Black Knight's steward appeared, just behind him. "Fetch our…guests…their horses. They will _not_ be staying for dinner."

"Aye, my lord," Bernard replied, casting his own dark look at Carlotta and Philippe, before disappearing to do as his master ordered.

The Black Knight slowly stepped into the light, his footsteps sounding like distant beats of thunder, as he slowly approached the group of stunned onlookers. The silence was so deafening that should one drop a needle, it would be heard louder than any falling boulder.

Sir Erik's eyes never once left those of Philippe. He could not explain it, but there was something eerily familiar about the young man's dark, demonic eyes. Sir Erik did not stop moving, until he was standing just behind Christine, his chest touching her back, his free hand, the one that did not grip the hilt of his sword, rose to rest on her shoulder, pulling her back against him, just slightly. He didn't have to coax her; Christine's weight sagged against the broad, muscular chest of her husband, her energy completely spent from her shouting.

Erik tilted his head just so, making sure that the dimming sunlight that was coming in through the windows, and the fire's light from the great fireplace, hit his mask, a glowing reminder that he was well aware of what they had been talking about.

"Good day to you," he growled, his voice so deep that Christine swore Carlotta and Philippe would be able to feel the very stones at their feet, tremble.

Carlotta said nothing, she gave a whimper of fear, before picking up her skirts and rushing to the safety of the outdoors, where Bernard stood, with their horses ready. Philippe, however, lingered, his eyes narrowing as he stared back at Sir Erik. Christine swallowed the lump in her throat as she felt the tension in her husband's muscles, as both he and Philippe stared one another down. Good God, how long were they going to keep this up? Should she say something? Do something?

But she didn't have to. Philippe bowed his head to Sir Erik, before turning his attention one last time on Christine. "Good day to you, Lady von Desslar," he whispered, his voice filled with promise; this was not their last meeting. Without another word, he walked past them, out into the courtyard, where he joined his sister.

Christine turned her head and watched from where she stood, as her former mistress and master mounted their horses, and disappeared out the castle gates. The second the guards closed the giant oak doors behind them, she let out a long, shaky breath, and fully collapsed her weight against Sir Erik's chest.

"Thank God," she whispered, her hand rising to her chest in a hopes to help calm her breathing. But she stilled the moment she felt Sir Erik's large fingers cover her own, and she slowly turned until she was facing him, her eyes moving up until they caught his gaze. "I…I am sorry, my lord," she murmured, swallowing another nervous lump from her throat. "Please know that I did not know—"

"Christine…" Erik interrupted, his voice so deep…and yet soft, and filled with something that sounded like wonder. Christine stood frozen in place as she looked up at the man she was hopelessly in love with, the man who she had just so passionately defended. "My brave, sweet Christine…" Erik murmured, his fingers moving to brush a fallen brown curl from her cheek. Christine melted against him then, as she felt Sir Erik's large, wonderful hands, tenderly cup her face, and hold her to him, as he lowered his mouth to cover hers.

He was the Black Knight, a man more feared than admired. And yet today, for the first time, someone had come to his defense, someone had saved him.


	28. Spies and Enemies

**Summary:** Spies are in the midst of Sir Erik and Christine, and Erik slowly begins to put the pieces together of his wife's tragic upbringing...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Spies and Enemies_**

"Eeewww…" Charles groaned. "They're kissing again!"

"Shut up!" Helena hissed, as she continued to lean out from behind the stone column that all of them had been hiding behind. Charles made another face while his sister sighed in a slightly dreamy tone, and he stuck out his tongue and gagged as the twins mimicked their older sister.

"It's disgusting," he argued.

"Is not!" the twins challenged.

"Is too!"

"It's romantic!" Helena spat, her golden eyes glaring with annoyance at her younger brother.

Charles rolled his own eyes and turned to his brother, hoping that Jacob would put everything to right and tell the girls that it _was_ disgusting. But instead, his brother was staring at the kissing couple, his expression unreadable, but it did look…fascinated.

They had heard the strange voices from their chambers and had gone to see what the commotion was in the great hall. All five children watched with fascination as Christine spoke with the mysterious man and woman.

"Who do you think they are?" Charles had asked, looking at his older siblings for an answer.

"They must know Christine," Jacob whispered. "Maybe they are family…"

"If they are her family, then they are _our_ family!" Helena squeaked, although the longer she watched the strangers, the more she found that she didn't like them, especially the girl. "Her hair is ugly," Helena grumbled.

"You think everyone's hair is ugly except your own!" Jacob groaned, rolling his eyes at his sister's comment.

"I think she's pretty," Charles murmured, which he soon regretted, for all three of his sisters gave him a filthy look at this.

"She is not pretty!" Helena whispered, before squaring her shoulders with pride. "And nowhere near as pretty as Christine."

"Shush!" Jacob hissed, giving all his younger siblings a look of warning, as the conversation between Christine and the strangers, escalated into something ugly. He frowned as he listened to the words being exchanged; his brother and sisters may not have realized the subtle insults, but he heard them, and he did not like them one bit.

Where was his father? He should be there, protecting Christine from whoever these strangers were. He wished he had the sword that he used when practicing; he wanted to storm into the room and tell the cowards to leave Winterbourne immediately!

The other children gasped as they heard the girl talk about their father's mask. The children knew that of all the topics in the world, the one involving their father's mask was not one they were allowed to discuss. And they listened, with horror, as the blonde girl described their father's face, and how ugly it was…

"I changed my mind," Charles murmured, a snarl developing within his throat. "She's the ugliest girl in the whole world!"

Jacob growled, and was fully prepared to launch himself from behind the column and defend his father's name, but the sudden shout stopped him dead in his tracks. In fact, all the children stared wide-eyed as they realized that the violent outburst had come…from Christine?

In the short time they had known her…Christine had never shouted at them. She had spoken to them in a firm voice, and they knew they had angered her and made her cross in the past…but they had never heard her lift her voice in such a way before, or throw such insults!

Helena and the twins giggled as Christine called the blonde woman a snake and a rat, and the boys felt their chests swell with pride as she bravely defended the name of their father. They watched in absolute astonishment as she screamed for them to leave, and they couldn't help but snicker at the way the blonde woman cowered behind the blonde man.

And then, they all froze as the growl of their father filled the room.

"Papa…" the twins murmured as they watched their father stare down the strangers, and walk right up to Christine, to stand directly behind her.

"Father will throw them out," Charles whispered, looking to his brother for confirmation. Jacob didn't say anything, he simply watched with fascination. The children waited, thinking their father would take his sword and challenge the strangers right then and there…but instead, the strangers left, rather quickly, like frightened dogs with their tails between their legs.

But despite all the surprises they had witnessed, nothing shocked the children more…than watching their own father, bend down and kiss Christine.

Charles was immediately disgusted, and the twins at first mimicked their brother, but Helena was enthralled by the sight, and began sighing in that dreamy way that only disgusted Charles further, especially as he watched his father wrap his arms around Christine's waist and pull her even closer, practically lifting her feet off the ground. Soon, the twins were mimicking their sister, and began poking their tongues out at Charles, while Jacob simply stood and watched the scene before them.

Jacob had little memory of his mother, but what he did remember was nothing like this. He could not recall a moment where he caught his mother and father kissing, nor could he recall a moment when he saw his father hold a woman so tenderly, so lovingly. It reminded him of seeing his father and Christine for the first time early that morning, his father shirtless, and Christine wearing what looked like a bed sheet. He knew that they were married, but…it didn't seem real…until now, as he watched them cling to one another and kiss.

"Christine looks like the fairy princess from her song…" Helena sighed adoringly.

Charles couldn't take the romantic sighing much longer. "How would you know? It's a _song_, not a picture, how would you know what she looks like?"

Helena glared at her brother, and without warning, reached out and gave him a cruel pinch, which resulted in him letting out a high-pitched squeal, which further resulted in Jacob shouting at his siblings, and which finally resulted in Erik and Christine pulling away in surprise, realizing that they actually had an audience.

"She pinched me, Papa, she pinched me!" Charles wailed, running out from behind the column, Helena fast at his heels, looking ready to pummel him.

The twins quickly followed suit, looking ready to join Helena in her pummeling, while Jacob walked slowly behind, feeling utterly embarrassed by his siblings' actions, but still looking at his father and Christine with curiosity.

Christine's face was a bright shade of red, but she couldn't help but giggle at the children's behavior, as well as out of nervousness for being caught in the act. How much had they seen? Sir Erik was too busy rounding the children up; Charles had run behind him to hide behind one of the Black Knight's massive legs, and Sir Erik reached down to grab a hold of his eldest daughter before she could inflict her punishment upon her younger brother. "I believe, my dear," Sir Erik growled as he held fast to his squealing daughter, "we are in the midst of spies."

Christine blushed even further. She wasn't sure how to respond, exactly, and she certainly wasn't sure how the children would feel. She found herself glancing nervously at Jacob, and half expected to see a glare of disapproval on the boy's face.

Surprisingly, he held none.

"What does a kiss feel like?" Helena innocently asked, although her face held a very mischievous grin.

Christine's eyes widened and her face, if it could go any redder, did. She had her answer; Sir Erik was right, they were in the midst of spies.

Christine opened her mouth, although her throat had gone completely dry; what should she say? Thankfully, and surprisingly, Sir Erik answered for her. "What a silly question," he mocked, lifting his daughter up even higher into his arms. "It feels like this," he explained, before leaning in and giving Helena's cheek a loud kiss. Helena burst into giggles, and the twins were jumping up and down, wanting their father to pick them up and give them kisses, while Charles poked his tongue out in disgust at the whole scene.

"No Papa!" Helena giggled, swatting her father's chest with her little hands. "How does it feel kissing Mama?"

The entire room seemed to go silent at Helena's question, but it was more due to the name she had used to describe Christine.

"Mama?" Charles asked, peeking out from behind his father.

Helena nodded her head, a big smile on her face. "I asked Christine early this morning if I could call her Mother. She said I could," Helena proudly stated, beaming brightly at a wide-eyed Christine.

Now she certainly felt nervous, especially in Jacob's presence. The other children didn't have memories of their mothers, but Jacob…

She turned her eyes towards the boy, expecting to see his own set of golden eyes blazing with outrage at hearing his sister, the girl who shared the same mother with him…calling _her_, mother.

Jacob was staring wide-eyed at Christine, glancing back and forth between her and his sister. Christine waited, waited for the fury, for the shouts, for the blind outrage that _she_ was now being called "mother" in their very home. She wanted to reassure Jacob that she would never take his real mother's place, that he didn't have to call her "mother", that none of them did…

But then, much to Christine's surprise, the boy smiled, and the smile grew wider and brighter as he gazed back at her. "Mother…" he murmured, trying the name out for himself, and grinning all the more at the sound of it.

"Mother…" Charles whispered, before saying the word again, with more strength and clarity and with a large grin that mirrored his brother's. "Mother!"

"MAMA!" the twins shouted, before turning and rushing towards Christine, wrapping their tiny arms around her legs, nearly knocking her over in their exuberance. Christine found herself laughing at their joyful welcome, and smiled at each and every one of them, before finally lifting her eyes to Sir Erik's…

The Black Knight was staring at her in absolute awe.

She bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking exactly. Was he pleased? He had called her "their new mother" on the first day she had arrived at Winterbourne. Was this what he wanted? Or would he realize that he still had feelings for his former mistress, and be disappointed that the children seemed so willing to let go of the memories of their true mothers?

"It is alright, isn't it Papa?" Charles asked, looking up at his father, his dark eyes filled with question. "She is our mama now, right?"

Sir Erik looked down at his son, before lifting his eyes once more to Christine's, who was holding her breath in anticipation for his answer. Was it only a few a month ago that he had written to the King, requesting help in his pursuit of a bride? Was it only a few weeks ago that he had left his hellish, unruly children, and traveled to the home of Pierre de Coleville, and met Christine? Was it only just yesterday, that they had made love for the first time?

Christine; she had done so much for…for everyone. She loved his children, unconditionally; he had no doubts about that. She had risen to her position as mistress of Winterbourne, despite her nervousness. She had shown faithful loyalty to him, and last night…she had given herself completely to him…including her heart. Yes, he knew he had heard her say the words, but he wanted to hear them again, to know for certain that he had not been dreaming. And now, in the short time she had been there, the magic that she seemed to contain, had enchanted his children into becoming admired by all in his household. And they wished to call her their mother…

"Aye, Charles," Erik murmured, his gaze returning to his son's. "She is your mama."

Christine's heart flooded with warmth at her husband's words, and she saw the warm pride reflected in the depths of his golden eyes. The children gave a loud cheer at their father's declaration, and Charles rushed over to hug Christine just as the twins were doing.

Helena was grinning, but then a pout developed on her lips, and she pounded her father's chest once more. "But Papa, you didn't answer my question!" she continued pouding her tiny fists until he was looking down at her. "What does kissing Mama feel like?"

Christine's face paled and then darkened deeply at the girl's persistent question, and she glanced at Sir Erik, wondering how exactly he would respond, and blushing all the more when his gaze caught hers.

"Don't ask stupid questions," Jacob groaned, saving the day for both his parents. "How would you feel if Bernard's son Karl kissed you, and then we asked you what it felt like?"

Helena's face darkened deeply at her brother's words, and then a fierce scowl formed across her brow. "Eeew! I don't like Karl! How dare you, Jacob!"

Jacob only grinned. "You like him, you're always watching him when he's in the courtyard…"

"I do not!" Helena shouted, fully ready to launch herself at her brother, if Sir Erik were not holding her so tightly.

"Enough," the Black Knight warned, not raising his voice, but the deepness of his tone was enough of a caution. "Go prepare yourselves for dinner, we will all be eating together tonight."

The children grinned at this, and even Christine found herself smiling; it would be the first time since she had come to Winterbourne that they would _all_ be sharing a meal together.

Erik gave Helena's cheek another kiss, before releasing her, and she, along with her other siblings, began to race to their chambers to wash up and prepare, leaving both Sir Erik and Christine alone once more.

An awkward silence seemed to fall before the couple.

Christine glanced up at her husband, wondering what exactly she should say, wondering what exactly he was thinking. He seemed to be pleased with the children calling her "mother", at least he did not give any protest; but the magic that had passed between the two of them when they were kissing seemed to have disappeared at being discovered. Should she feel embarrassed for the children finding out? Why? After all, they were married, and even Meg seemed surprised that everything that had happened the night before had been the first time. _I have been his wife for several weeks…and yet, I still feel like a stranger at times…_

She had to say something, she didn't like feeling like a stranger, especially in her own home and with her own husband. Erik had revealed to her that part of the reason he was trying to keep distance between them was because he did not wish to corrupt her innocence, that he was thinking only of his children, not himself, and while he had not said these words to her, she knew that another reason was because of the horrible betrayal that he had suffered from the women of his past.

"Who was the man with Carlotta?"

Christine was surprised that it was Sir Erik who spoke first, and even more so by his question. However, she knew that it was an understandable question.

His eyes were locked with the fireplace at the other end of the room. All she could see of him was his profile, but his jaw looked extremely rigid and set. "His name is Philippe; Philippe de Coleville," she answered, wishing he would turn and look at her. Something about him seemed very cold. "He is Carlotta's brother."

Sir Erik made a grunt, and straightened his back, his arms going behind him, as he began to pace. "I thought as much," he murmured, deep and low. "I remember seeing him at the Baron's home, but we were not introduced…"

Christine bit her lip; she had a feeling that if Sir Erik had met Philippe, Philippe would not have been so bold as to come to the Black Knight's home. However, she recalled the look that Philippe was giving the Black Knight, when Sir Erik entered the room and stood behind her. She had not seen her husband's face, but she could imagine the fury and challenge in his golden eyes. And Philippe, the foolish, arrogant rogue that he was, stared right back at him. She wondered if Philippe was aware that he had just narrowly escaped with his life?

"He seemed to be well acquainted with you…" Sir Erik continued, interrupting Christine's thoughts. Christine was shaken by this…it wasn't a question, exactly, but more of an observation.

"He is but a few years older than me," Christine explained. "Like Carlotta, I grew up serving him."

Sir Erik's fist tightened around the hilt of his sword then. He did not like to be reminded that Christine once served such a wretched family, and he especially did not like the idea that she had to "serve" someone like Philippe.

"My lord?" Christine bit her lip, noticing the tenseness of her husband's body language.

Erik took a deep breath and turned to face her. In his pacing he was now standing by the fireplace. He leaned one of his muscular arms against its mantle, and set his eyes upon her. "Why do you think they came?"

It was not a challenging question, simply one of curious speculation. "I do not know," Christine honestly replied, her hands nervously playing with a piece of fabric on her dress. "Perhaps they wanted to intimidate me?"

Sir Erik cocked his visible eyebrow at this. "Intimidate you? Why would they wish to do that?"

Christine's fingers curled around the piece of fabric she had been playing with, and tightened just slightly. "No doubt Carlotta is upset, and…perhaps jealous, that…that she, despite her great beauty, does not have a husband, and I, a mere servant, have married you, the man she was supposed to marry."

Sir Erik also noticed his wife's change in body language. He could tell that she clearly was not comfortable discussing such things, but he needed to know as much information as possible. He knew very little about his wife's background, and it amazed him that he hadn't questioned what her life must have been like prior to marrying him; amazed and angered him…

"As I said, I remember seeing this Philippe at Baron de Coleville's home," Erik murmured, his eyes studying the flames in the fireplace as they danced along the hearth. "I remember how closely he was watching you…" he lifted his eyes just slightly to see Christine's reaction, and his jaw tightened as he noticed her uncomfortable shiver. "He certainly seemed taken by you…"

"Taken by me!?" Christine gasped, her head snapping up at her husband's words. Erik noticed the way she paled at the thought, and another uncomfortable tremor passed through her. Every muscle in his body was completely tense and on edge.

"Aye," Sir Erik growled. "And I did not like it. Even now, when he was standing before you today, I noticed the way his eyes roamed over you…" Sir Erik's words were coming out through clenched teeth, and his knuckles were turning white by how tightly he was gripping his sword.

Christine noticed these changes as well, and instantly grew worried. She quickly rushed around the small table, the only thing that divided her from his side, until she was standing a few inches away from him. "Erik, please know, nothing has ever transpired between myself and Philippe—"

"I know," he murmured, his voice surprisingly calm and gentle, although there was a fire blazing in the depths of his eyes. "I could tell by the way you spoke, the way you moved, both in his presence, and now when you and I are talking about him…I can see that you hold no tender feelings for him."

Christine's arms moved to wrap tightly around her. How she wished it were Sir Erik's arms holding her, blocking out all thoughts of Philippe de Coleville. "Nay," she whispered, her own eyes falling to the dancing flames. "My feelings for him are anything but tender."

Erik felt rage at this revelation, deep rage and hatred for the man he had allowed to escape so easily from his home, but right now, rage was the last thing his bride needed to see. "Christine…" he took a step towards her, and his hand gently went to her chin, and lifted it until she was looking at him. "Has he ever hurt you?"

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and wanted to turn her face away, but Sir Erik's other hand gently cupped her cheek so that she could not look away. He needed to see her eyes, they told a thousand stories. He needed to hear the words, although he could already see the answer.

"Philippe…he was often away," she began. "As a boy, he was away at school, and as a young man, he was away wasting his father's fortune. But…on some occasions, he would return," she paused for a moment to take a deep breath and collect herself. "At first, he simply enjoyed making cruel jokes. He and Carlotta would tease me about my clothes, my appearance, calling me all sorts of vile names, but…as he got older, the jokes became more vulgar."

Erik's hands remained gentle as they held her face, but his jaw was tightening with each word she spoke.

"He enjoyed cornering me," she whispered, as the horrible memory began to flood her head. "I would be busy, going about my chores, normally for Carlotta as I became her personal servant."

"Personal slave," Erik growled under his breath.

"And…he would sometimes pop out, taking me by complete surprise, normally causing me to drop whatever it was I was carrying…"

Erik's growl grew somewhat louder. "He enjoyed frightening you…"

Christine nodded her head. "He would then proceed to corner me, and try to shock me with a vulgar joke. He…he often said…" her voice trailed off, and she attempted to look away, another uncomfortable shiver coursing through her body.

But Erik needed to hear her say it. "What did he say to you, Christine? Tell me…"

Christine swallowed, and two large tears began to drip down her cheeks. "He…he said he enjoyed watching me blush, because it reminded him of…of a woman's…a woman's..." she couldn't continue, she felt absolutely sick to her stomach at the memory and began to cough violently.

Erik didn't need to hear anymore, he had an idea of exactly how Philippe de Coleville liked to torture Christine, and he had a feeling that it was far fowler than what Christine had thus far revealed.

A part of him wanted to race outside to the stables, mount his charger, and order his men to follow him as he hunted down the despicable cad. In the past, that was surely what he would have done…

But that was not what Christine needed. She was trembling and crying, and what she needed was comfort and safety. Without another moment's thought, Erik wrapped his small wife up in his arms, and pulled her tightly against his chest, his own rage giving way as he felt her hot tears soak through his tunic.

Christine moaned softly as she felt her husband's strong arms wrap around her. If she had any doubts in the past, they were all gone now; in Sir Erik's arms, nothing could harm her, not even Philippe or the nightmares of the past. Her own arms moved to wrap around his waist, hugging him just as fiercely to her small frame. This masked warrior who so many feared, felt so warm, so safe, and Christine knew people would be shocked at how gentle he could be. A purr threatened to escape her throat as she felt his fingers softly run through the long strands of her brown hair. She loved him, God how she loved him…

"Mama?"

Christine quickly wiped her cheeks and eyes, before turning at the sound of the small voice from behind her. Sir Erik's arms never once loosened around his wife as he lifted his head to see Helena's worried and questioning eyes.

"Why are you crying Mama?"

Erik spoke instead. "Is dinner ready, Helena?"

The redheaded child nodded her head, but her eyes never left Christine. "Is Mama alright?"

"Yes, Helena," Christine finally spoke, forcing a smile as her eyes locked with the child's. "Go on and take your place at the table, your father and I will be right behind you."

Helena nodded her head at this, but she seemed reluctant to leave. But one stern look from her father said enough, and she quickly scampered to the dining hall where her other siblings sat.

"You don't have to go in there," Erik murmured, turning his attention back to Christine. "I can have Anne send up a tray for you. You should get some rest, you—"

"Nay," Christine shook her head, before reluctantly dislodging herself from Sir Erik's protective embrace. "It would be good to sit and eat with the children, it will be our first meal as a family."

Family. Erik swallowed, different thoughts flooding his head at the many meanings of that word. In the past, he had thought he had the family he wanted, and then, after realizing that he had been wrong, he spent many years searching for one. But he had always had it…and now, with Christine there, it felt truly complete.

"Aye," he whispered, before taking her arm and leading her towards the dining hall. "But we shall continue our talk, later."

Christine nodded her head, although she was not looking forward to reliving the horrible memories of her life at the de Coleville's. However, it was a progressive step for both her and Sir Erik; perhaps with the revelations of her past, he would feel more comfortable to talk about his?

She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. She was standing on his right side, and her eyes were filled with the image of his mask. Was Sir Erik's face as badly ravaged as Carlotta had claimed it to be? Surely some of what Carlotta had said was exaggeration; after all, the girl had not seen his face herself. But it was yet another question that Christine had to an already full basket of questions.

And it was another barrier that separated her from her husband.

* * *

"I will NOT do it! I refuse!" Carlotta shouted, her eyes wild as they glared into the dark depths of her brother's eyes.

"It's the only way…" Philippe attempted to reason, although he knew it would take more than mere reason to have Carlotta see sense.

"NO!" Carlotta practically screamed, her feet frantically pacing around the small inn room she was staying in. "I don't care anymore, he is NOT worth it!"

Philippe felt his teeth clench. "You saw how wealthy he is. You saw all the finery that he has, finery that we USED to have!" he hissed at her.

"And YOU saw how he threatened us!"

Philippe rolled his eyes. "He hardly threatened us, you were just too afraid to meet his eyes."

"Exactly!" she folded her arms and flounced herself down on the inn bed. "I am not as foolish as you think, Philippe! I am wise enough to know when it is time to abandon a task, and this is one that is NOT worth pursuing!"

Philippe refused to hear his sister, and turned his gaze to the window that overlooked the coastal village of Valmour. There were times when he wanted nothing more than to wrap his fingers around his dear sister's neck, and squeeze until her skin went blue.

"Ugh!" Carlotta groaned, shooing an insect away that had crawled on her arm from a hole in the straw mattress that she was lying on. "I want to get out of this place!" she grumbled. "I want to go home!"

"WHAT HOME!?" Philippe roared, turning to his sister. "We have no home! The debt collectors have seized our home, we are more or less peasants living in a castle that is no longer ours!"

Carlotta's lip wobbled at this. "It's so unfair!" she wailed. "I am the daughter of a baron! I SHOULD BE LIVING IN SUCH A PLACE AS WINTERBOURNE, NOT CHRISTINE!"

Philippe knew he could find some way to get his sister to see reason. "Yes, you should be the one living there, as mistress of Winterbourne." He rose from his chair then, and began to pace around the room, stoking the fires of jealousy in his sister. "Can you imagine some nobody like Christine…sleeping on a feather mattress? Dressed in gold and lace? Wearing long strings of pearls and diamonds? Ordering servants about? Being addressed to as 'milady'?"

"SHUT UP!" Carlotta screamed, picking up a pitcher next to the bed and flinging it across the room. "SHE'S NOTHING! SHE'S FILTH! SHE'S NOT EVEN BEAUTIFUL!"

Philippe smirked. "I don't know about that…"

Carlotta gasped and her face paled, before turning a dark shade of purple. "What…do…you…mean…by that?" she muttered through clenched teeth.

"Simply that when we spoke with her, she truly did look beautiful…like a lady, like…" he paused for extra emphasis. "Like a noblewoman."

"SHUT UP!" Carlotta screamed again, and this time picked up the bowl that the pitcher had been sitting in, and threw it at her brother's head.

Philippe was extremely thankful for Carlotta's bad aim, and he ignored the outburst, too delighted that he was winning her over once more. "If you wish to experience those very luxuries that you always took for granted, dear sister…and if you wish to see Christine destroyed, then you will do exactly what I say."

Carlotta frowned at this. She did not care for her brother's plan, especially the part she had to play, but right now, she would give anything to see Christine crawling around in the mud, begging Carlotta for forgiveness for ever taking away what was rightly hers. She wanted Christine to pay dearly…and if that meant doing what her brother suggested…so be it.

"Alright," she grumbled. "I'll do it. But when?"

Philippe grinned, a dark malicious grin, as he turned his eyes northward, in the direction of Winterbourne. "Tomorrow night," he whispered.


	29. Christine's Tale

**Summary: **Christine tells Sir Erik how she came to live with the de Coleville's...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Christine's Tale_**

Dinner was pleasant, far more pleasant that Sir Erik thought possible.

The servants kept bustling into the dining hall, carrying several grand dishes, such as roast leg of lamb and suckling pig, as well as several different kinds of vegetables. The children greedily ate their supper, and Sir Erik realized it was the first time that not one of them complained about the meal.

At first, the conversation was awkward; the children clearly wanted to talk about the strangers who had "invaded" their home, but Sir Erik made it quite clear that the conversation on that particular topic, would not go on. A strange silence fell over the group as their first course was served, but Christine broke it by asking the children what they did during the day. Erik listened as Jacob described his sword lessons with one of Erik's men-at-arms, and Charles began begging if he could have sword lessons, clearly wanting to be just like his older brother. Helena complained about how Anne insisted that she learn how to sew a tapestry, wishing that she too, could also have sword lessons. The twins had been playing with their dolls all morning long, and were visited by Lady Ophelia, Bernard's wife, who offered to give the girls dancing lessons, if they so wished. Helena's eyes went wide at this, and she became extremely upset that Lady Ophelia hadn't asked her, since she was clearly old enough and Sarah and Sabrina, in her own words, were just babies. The twins let out a mighty protest at this, but Christine was able to calm them all down, saying how dearly she would love to learn how to dance as well. Helena gave an exuberant squeal at this, and wanted to leave the table and seek out Lady Ophelia at once to give her the news, but Sir Erik was able to keep her seated, telling his daughter in a firm, yet gentle voice, that she could deliver her message in the morning.

Dinner continued, and the children couldn't stop chattering, each grinning and laughing, each looking back and forth between both Sir Erik, and Christine, with adoration and love. Erik watched Christine throughout the meal, feeling his heart warm every time her laughter filled the room, every time she smiled at one of the children, every time she glanced in his direction, and then immediately turned her head, a lovely blush coloring her cheek. No one would have suspected that only an hour ago, she had faced the demons of her past. No one would have suspected that this smiling, laughing woman, had cried in his arms after revealing the cruelty that had been inflicted upon her in her past. Erik vowed to himself, then and there, he would never let any harm come to her, and before his life was finished, he would see to it that Philippe de Coleville suffered for the wrongdoings he had committed against Christine.

Dinner finally came to a end after their desserts were brought forth by Anne—a delicious sweet pudding, which all the children happily gobbled up, thanking Anne and the cooks between spoonfuls. Anne smiled tenderly at the scene, and began to dab her eyes, clearly moved by the change. If someone had asked her a month ago whether it was possible for Sir Erik and his children to make peace, whether it was possible for the hell demons to learn manners, and whether it was possible for all of them to sit and eat together like a family—she would laughed. Yet now, as she gazed at the table scene before her, and as she listened to the conversation, she felt her heart lift with loving hope, and tears fill her eyes at the beautiful scene. Of course Anne knew who was truly responsible, and she gazed with loving adoration at Christine. God surely had guided Sir Erik that day when he went in search of a bride.

After dessert, the children begged Christine to tell one of her stories. Christine smiled and scooped up Sabrina, while Sir Erik scooped up Sarah, and the others followed, as Christine led them back to the great hall. There, she sat down in a large chair near the fire, while the others sat around her on the floor, each looking up at her with excitement, wondering what sort of tale she would tell.

"Do you know a story about monsters?" Charles asked, grinning.

The twins instantly groaned. "We want to hear one about unicorns!"

Helena shook her head. "Sing them the one you sang to me, about the troll prince who falls in love with the maiden!"

Jacob didn't have any requests; he was quite content to listen to whatever Christine sang.

"Hush, no need to fight," Christine murmured, quickly calming them all down. "I think I will sing you an old story, a story that my father told me many, many years ago…"

Helena grinned at this. "Your father would be our grandfather! Where is he? Will he come to visit?"

Erik had never asked Christine about her parents, but he assumed, since she never spoke of them, that they were dead. He stiffened at Helena's question, and was fully prepared to step forward and interrupt, but Christine simply smiled at the girl and reached out to run her fingers through the child's fiery hair. "Nay, I'm afraid not, Helena. My father, and my mother, are in heaven, where they sing their stories to the angels."

Helena bit her lip, knowing what Christine meant by this; after all, her mother was also in heaven. However, Christine did not look cross or upset by what she had asked, and so the girl settled down against a plush pillow, and gazed up at Christine as she began to sing.

Erik sucked in a deep breath as his wife's beautiful, sweet voice, filled the room. He remembered the first time he had heard her sing, that night when he had returned from his search (ironically for her), and he had found her in the children's bedchambers, sleepily singing the last few words of her song…before falling to sleep with the children. He had never heard a voice quite like hers before—an angel's voice; surely that was what it was. He found himself sinking into a chair opposite of hers, and his eyes closed, very briefly, as the sweet chords of her voice washed over him…

Christine's song told the story of a girl, who had fallen in love with a knight of a far away kingdom. The knight had an enchanted castle, which stood on a cliff, overlooking the sea. Beautiful fields of endless roses surrounded the castle, but despite the beauty of the place, the castle was believed to be haunted by a dark, fearsome ghost. The girl entered the castle, determined to find the knight whom she loved, and every so often, a monster would attempt to steal her away, and keep her parted by her beloved. But she finally found him, chained in his own chamber.

"What about the Ghost!?" Charles squeaked, interrupting the song just briefly. The other children groaned at him for the interruption, but immediately turned their attention back to Christine as she continued.

The lady ran towards her beloved, unsure how to release him from the chains, but she was startled to realize, that the dark, fearsome ghost…was actually the knight, himself!

Erik's eyes opened at this moment; the song sounded oddly familiar…

The lady covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming, and the Ghost turned away from her, telling her to leave him, to return to her far away home. But she refused, and professed her love for him, and began to weep for the cruelties that he had suffered. Her tears, moved by love, were magical…and when they touched the Ghost, they made him flesh. The Ghost-Knight told her that it was the monsters who had chained him, and that they had hidden the key. The castle contained a secret treasure, and the monsters were determined to steal it. The lady leaned forward, and kissed her beloved then, and through the power of their kiss, the key was revealed; it had been hidden in the Ghost's heart.

"And what about the treasure?" Jacob asked, leaning in eagerly, just like his siblings. "Were the monsters stopped? Did the lady and her knight marry?" Even Erik was leaning in, wishing to know what had happened.

Christine sighed and gave a sad smile. "That's all I know," she murmured, knowing the children were disappointed. "Every night, my father would tell me a new part of the story, but…it was never finished, I'm afraid."

The younger children looked confused by this, but Jacob and Helena understood perfectly, and shot their younger siblings a look of warning if they were even thinking of asking what Christine meant.

"I think they found the treasure," Charles announced, a big grin on his face. "The knight and his lady, I mean."

"And I think they got married," Helena grinned. "And you know what? The castle sounds like Winterbourne!"

Christine blushed, and glanced up at Sir Erik, who was watching her closely. "Yes, I suppose it does; a dark castle on the cliffs, overlooking the sea…"

"And we're growing our own rose garden!" Sarah grinned.

"Soon, we'll have fields of roses, just like the song!" Sabrina added.

"Will you sing us another?" Jacob asked, liking Christine's voice and stories very much.

Christine opened her mouth to respond, but Erik's own deep voice filled the room, instead. "Not tonight, I'm afraid," he announced, to which all the children gave a groan of disappointment. Christine didn't mind singing another, she was somewhat confused by her husband's response. However, one look into Sir Erik's eyes, and Christine knew exactly why he said what he said…

He wanted to continue their talk from earlier.

A shiver coursed through Christine. She knew it was for the best, after all, she didn't want them to keep secrets from each other and continue in their ignorance of one another…but the idea of having to recall such horrible memories…

"Mama, are you cold?" Sarah asked, looking up at her with large, concerned eyes. "You're shaking…"

"It is a little cold, yes," Christine lied, before putting on a smile and scooping the child up. "Come, let's get you into bed."

The children reluctantly followed their mother and father to their bedchambers, and both Erik and Christine went about the tasks of tucking them all in, and saying goodnight to each and everyone. Christine smiled, enjoying the task very much, loving how all the children allowed her to give them a kiss on the forehead, as well as hug. Even Jacob, who Christine feared would see such actions as childish, welcomed her embrace as she bade him goodnight.

Sir Erik was standing in the hallway when Christine emerged from the boy's chamber, waiting for her patiently. The joy she felt at saying goodnight disappeared, and the shivers she had experienced earlier returned. "Come," Sir Erik whispered, drawing her close to his side by wrapping one of his powerful arms around her shoulders.

Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as Sir Erik led her towards her own chamber, summoning her courage, reminding herself that a memory could not harm you, that she was safe now, that she had nothing to fear…

_But they found you! They came into your own home, unannounced! And why would they do such a thing? What are they up too?_

"Christine…" Erik's voice interrupted her thoughts, and Christine took a deep breath, before turning to look up at his masked face. "I…I want to…" he didn't know why this was so hard for him to say. He stopped walking, and turned to look directly at her. "I wish to know more about you," he finally said, feeling somewhat foolish for his words. There was nothing foolish about wanting to learn more about a person, it was simply the fact that he had waited until _now_ to even show any interest.

_Nay, I have always wanted to know more about her, I was just too much of a coward to ask._

Christine looked away from his eyes and nodded her head. It was time that the two of them learned about one another's pasts, and if by revealing her own would help him to reveal his, then so be it. She loved him, and she still clung to the hope that perhaps, he could love her too. Being husband and wife went beyond physical connection; she wanted the emotional connection as well.

"Very well," Christine whispered, as they approached her chamber, and Sir Erik opened the door for her. "I'll start at the beginning, then…"

* * *

_Christine held her father's hand very tightly as she gazed up at the castle before her. It was a lovely castle, from what she could see of it. The stones were a soft, sandy brown color, and there were vines growing along its sides. Nearby was a barn, where she could hear the sounds of cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens, reminding her in many ways of home. The thought should have been a comfort, but it made her heart all the more sad… _

_A tall, elderly man, dressed in servant's garb, approached both of them, his face so deeply set with wrinkles that Christine could not tell whether the man was frowning or not. He certainly looked stern. "Is this the girl?" the man grumbled, not even bothering to look at Christine, simply staring into her father's eyes._

"_Yes," her father murmured, glancing down at his daughter with painful sadness, his heart ripping in two as he gave the simple reply. "This is my daughter, Christine. She's eight years old, but she is a hard worker and knows her place; she'll be a good servant—"_

"_I'm not the one you have to convince," the older man snapped, turning his back and marching back inside the castle. Christine glanced up at her father, wishing that they could return home at once, but then she knew that was impossible…they had no home, not anymore. "Well!?" the servant groaned, standing in the doorway, looking extremely irritated. "Are you coming in, or not?"_

_Christine's father held her hand tightly as he quickly followed the older man. They stopped once they were inside, standing in the midst of the beautiful great hall. Christine looked all around her, gasping at the stained glass windows, the exquisite furniture, and the beautiful tapestries that hung from the ceiling. She had never been inside such a beautiful place before, although her mother and father often told her stories about such castles. She wondered if this was how a princess felt…_

"_Jean?" _

_Christine glanced up at the woman's voice that came from overhead. Standing on the beautiful staircase that led down into the great hall, was a tall, lovely woman, with long, beautiful silver blonde hair, that flowed down her back like a silken waterfall. She was wearing a purple gown, with silver trim, and a long string of diamonds. Atop her head was a net of pearls, and as she came closer, Christine noticed how lovely and sharp her features were; high cheekbones, an angular nose, full-pink lips, and two lovely, silver-blue eyes. She was obviously a queen…_

"_Is this the new girl?" the queen asked, as she descended the stairs as if she were floating on air. Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat, and took a step forward, smiling up at the regal woman, just as her father had told her to do before they approached the castle._

"_Aye, milady," the servant, Jean, obediently answered. _

_The queen looked down at Christine, her lovely eyes devoid of emotion. Christine's nervousness began to increase, and the smile she was wearing began to disappear. The queen then proceeded to circle her, muttering things to her servant about her figure, her hair, her skin, even her clothes. Christine bit her lip, knowing that it was foolish to cry, that she had promised her father that no matter what, she would not cry. _

"_Mama, what is _that_?" _

_Christine looked up once more to the top of the staircase, and there, she saw a young girl, who still looked as if she were young enough to be in the nursery. The girl was a miniature of the queen; long, flowing silver-blonde ringlets, lovely features, and despite her young age, she held herself with the same regalness. The only difference, Christine noticed, was that she had dark eyes, extremely dark, almost black looking. _

"This_," the queen murmured, "is your new servant girl."_

_A shiver went through Christine at the woman's words. She didn't even know the other girl, and yet she was already dreading the thought of being _her_ servant._

"_You…you will take her?" _

_Christine whirled around to see her father standing behind her, his face a mixture of both relief and fear. She knew why he had brought her here; he told her over and over again that it was for a better life, a life that he could not provide for her, but as Christine stood in the presence of the queen and princess, she knew that this was not the better life her father imagined._

_Her parents worked for a greedy nobleman, a landowner who made his money by snatching up the land of other nobles, but who did not "waste" what money he made, but acquiring more servants. Her father and mother were peasant farmers, who knew how to work the land, and as long as Christine could remember, they worked the land of their greedy master both night and day, until their fingers bled. _

_It was a horrible life, if one could call it that. Christine worked alongside her parents, although she could not do as much as they since she was a child. She often did the chores of their tiny house, trying her best to make sure that they would have a comfortable, clean home to come home to, whenever that would be. For many years, it was just the three of them, until six months ago, her mother announced she was with child. _

_Christine was very excited about having a baby brother or sister, and worked even harder so that her mother could rest. But their master did not care for their comfort, or for the fact that her mother was pregnant, and threatened that if they did not do the work he commanded, he would turn them all out._

_Sadly, a drought hit that summer, and the land suffered greatly. Christine's family nearly starved, and their master refused to show any mercy, even though it was completely out of their hands. Christine's mother also became sick, and one night she began to moan in pain. The baby was coming, but it was too early. Christine ran to fetch a midwife, but it was too late by the time she had returned; both the baby…and her mother, had died._

_A month passed, and the nobleman's greed did not cease. Since Christine's mother had died, he ordered her father to do the work of two people. But her father was only one man, and because he could not complete the work that their master ordered, he seized their cottage, and both Christine and her father were forced to live in a dilapidated shack, near their master's home. _

_This was not the life he wanted for his child, so her father announced, only a few days ago, that he would be taking her to work for the nephew of his master, a baron by the name of Pierre de Coleville. Baron de Coleville had a large castle, and two children, including a daughter who was only a few years younger than Christine. He thought that surely Christine could help the mother with managing the young girl, and that her life in the castle would be ten times better than her life in a shack. He told her over and over again that he loved her so much, that the thought of parting with her broke his heart…but he loved her too much to see her suffer the same way he and her mother suffered._

"_Yes…" the queen muttered, eyeing Christine one more time. "She will do."_

_The little girl stomped her foot and put on a large pout. "But Mama!" she wailed. "I don't want her! She's ugly!"_

_Christine looked at the child in absolute shock. She couldn't have been more than four or five years old! And yet, somehow in her young age, she had learned the art of rudeness, it seemed. _

_The queen, however, said nothing, not once reprimanding her daughter for the rude comment. "She will be your servant, Carlotta," the woman stated, her voice quite firm. "She will help you dress in the morning, see to your bath, and wait on you hand and foot, whenever you call upon her."_

_Christine trembled at this news, and noticed, with horror, how the little girl gave an evil grin at this revelation. _

"_Come, Carlotta, time for your dancing lessons," the queen announced, before turning and leaving, without another word or glance towards either Christine, or her father. The demon princess named Carlotta, turned and grinned wickedly at Christine, before turning and quickly following her mother. It seemed that the castle's beauty was simply a mask to hide its terrible reality._

"_Papa?" Christine turned to her father then, biting her lip. "Please, I don't want to stay here, please, let me go home with you, please?"_

_Her father was trying his hardest to not show any tears, but it was impossible, and he looked down at his daughter, his own blue eyes filled with such deep pain. "It's…it's for the best, Christine."_

_Christine shook her head; she would rather face the horrors of the fields, than the horrors of the demon princess. "Papa, don't leave me here, please? Please, let me go home, please—"_

"_To the kitchens with you!" barked Jean, the old frowning servant, whose wrinkles seemed to make his eyes sink into his head. "And you!" he shouted, glaring at her father. "Be gone with you! We've done what you wanted, now go!"_

_Her father didn't move, he kept glancing back and forth between his daughter and the old servant, but the man snapped his fingers, and several strong looking men entered the castle, from the nearby barn. "I said, be gone with you!" the old servant ordered once more, and with her vision blinded by tears, Christine watched as her father sadly turned and left the castle, his shoulders slumped in defeat._

"_Papa!" Christine leapt to follow, but she was stopped when the old man grabbed a fistful of her hair, and gave it a harsh yank._

"_I told you to go to the kitchens!" he shouted, before lifting his hand as if threatening to slap her. Christine bit her lip to control her sobs, and mutely nodded her head, before turning in the direction his bony finger was pointing. _

_It seemed that her father, bless him, had unknowingly traded his daughter from one hell, to another._

* * *

Erik's hand was gripping the tiny mantle of her fireplace. It had been a long time since he had felt the desire to kill someone. Right now, he wished more than anything, that he had torched de Coleville's castle on the day he came to claim his bride. It was hard for him to imagine, as he gazed at the small woman who sat on the window seat of her chamber, her arms wrapped around her legs, hugging them to her chest, as she sadly gazed out at the darkening horizon, that anyone would wish to cause harm to someone like her.

His chest tightened as he imagined the humiliations Carlotta and her mother put her through. She had done them no harm, and as Christine had described, he could easily close his eyes, and envision her as an eight-year-old child, smiling before her new mistress, wishing to make a good impression…and then being emotionally spat upon. Why? Because they could.

As a boy, Erik was looked down upon by many of his peers, because he was Lord Edwin's illegitimate son, who had been so easily accepted by the King. But those same peers that attempted to sneer at him often found themselves gathering their bloody teeth off the ground after Erik threw his fist into their jaw. He had always been strong, even when he was a boy, and that strength helped him greatly with defending himself, and intimidating others. They may not have wanted to accept him, but they feared him too much not too.

But he had been able to defend himself; not only was he strong, he was the son of the King's favorite knight. Few would dare to cross him. But Christine…she was a servant girl, one who had no family, one who was treated like garbage from the day she arrived, and who, much to Erik's anger, was called "ugly" from the moment she first stepped into de Coleville's home. She could not defend herself, not the way she may have wanted to; one word against her employers, one outburst, one slap…and she would find herself on the street.

Lady Maria knew exactly what she was doing when it came to Christine, and she obviously passed the horrible lessons onto her daughter. A servant was meant to serve you…and when they weren't serving you, they were meant for your torment. That was the lesson Lady Maria taught, and that was exactly what she and her children did. Power; they had it, and Christine didn't. And simply based on this story Christine had told him, it was obvious they spent much of their time exuding it.

"Did your father ever come to see you?" he asked, after a long pause.

Christine swallowed the emotional lump in her throat, and lifted her hands to wipe her cheeks. "When he could…which, sadly, was not often," she answered. "It wasn't his fault; I never blamed him for bringing me there, I know that he had done so because he loved me, and believed life would be better for me there."

Erik had never dismissed any of his servants. He knew some of them feared him, but all of them were good and loyal, and it was because he treated them with respect and dignity. He had once heard a servant describe Winterbourne as "a servant's paradise"; he could not imagine the atrocities that Christine and other servants like her had experienced in their lives.

A sigh escaped Erik's lips as he prepared himself for the next story, a story he needed to know. "And Philippe? What of him?" He knew there was more to the story about the boy than what Christine had already revealed.

"Philippe…" Christine whispered, pulling her knees even closer to her body.

* * *

_"Christine…" Carlotta purred, a wicked grin spreading across her pretty features as she snuck up on the servant girl who was leaning over a boiling pot of water, attempting to do Lady Maria's laundry._

_Christine summoned her patience and lifted her head. "Yes?" _

_Carlotta continued grinning. "We have a guest coming for dinner…"_

_Carlotta was obviously up to something, and Christine wasn't in the mood for games; she had far too many chores to do. "I shall inform Antoinette at once, if she does not already know," Christine curtsied, before turning back to finish her work._

_Carlotta started laughing. "No, you stupid little pig! Our guest is very special…and he is traveling home from school…even as we speak…"_

_Christine froze as the weight of Carlotta's words sunk in. There was only one person to whom she knew was away at school…_

"_Philippe has written to me," Carlotta giggled, before twirling around the room, her flaxen curls bouncing freely about her shoulders. "He often ends his letters with questions about _you_…" she practically cackled. "He misses you dearly, Christine…"_

_"Young mistress!"_

_Carlotta practically shrieked at the cold bark that filled the small laundry room. Both girls looked up at the towering stern woman before them, her black eyes staring down her long, chiseled nose, with cold contempt, at the younger girl. "You best leave Christine to finish her work," Antoinette muttered through clipped lips. "And I believe your father would like to speak with you…"_

_Carlotta said nothing; she simply scrambled her way past the tall woman without a backward glance. Antoinette, the head cook for the Baron and his family, was the only servant that Carlotta…or any of the de Coleville family for that matter, could intimidate. In fact, no one dared cross Antoinette; some believed she was a witch, and could cast a hex upon a person by simply looking at them with her cold, black eyes. _

_However, she had shown kindness to Christine on the first day she had arrived. Meg, Antoinette's daughter, had come to Christine's defense, when several other servants began "having some fun" with the poor girl, giving her confusing directions to the castle's different chambers, manipulating her to do their share of the work, and so on. Meg despised bullies, and more or less came to Christine's rescue. When the bullies attempted to tell Meg off, a handsome servant boy named Robert, stepped in to defend both of them. And those that still continued to argue, quickly stopped, when Antoinette caught their eye._

_Indeed, Christine was very glad to have the woman as her friend, rather than her enemy._

"_I understand that Philippe is returning home from school," Antoinette murmured, as she entered the laundry room to inspect some of the tablecloths for the dining hall. "Lady Maria has ordered a grand feast in celebration of his return."_

_Christine said nothing; she simply brushed a sweaty strand of brown hair away from her face. _

"_I think it would be wise for you to have Meg accompany you this evening, as you help Carlotta prepare for bed. And if there are any other chores that you are ordered to perform, it would especially be wise to have young Robert help you."_

_Christine knew exactly what Antoinette was doing. She was only fourteen, but sadly, at her young age, she had suffered greatly from Philippe de Coleville._

_A week after her arrival at Baron de Coleville's, Christine met Carlotta's older brother, Philippe, who had returned home for a short break from his schooling. He was the only son of Baron de Coleville, and he was clearly his mother's pride and joy. Philippe was a handsome boy, with the same silver-blonde hair as his mother and sister, and like his sister, he also had the same dark eyes. Souless eyes, Christine soon learned, for both Carlotta, and Philippe had no soul._

_In the beginning, Philippe joined his sister in pulling pranks on Christine; from dumping buckets of pig slop on her head, to putting rats and spiders in her bed, and all sorts of nasty tricks. Quite often, they would get Christine into trouble with their mother, tattling on her, telling them that she had attempted to punch them, or slap them, or kick them…which wasn't too far from the truth. Christine had attempted to do those very things after they pushed her over the edge, but it always resulted in her getting taken out back, and Jean, the old wrinkled servant, beating her back with a sharp switch. However, if Christine had to be beaten, she prayed that it was by Jean; sometimes Lady Maria allowed Carlotta or Philippe to use the switch…and they were merciless. _

_The years passed, and Carlotta became vainer and brattier, and Philippe's cruelty began to change, slightly._

_Christine remembered a time she had gone swimming with Meg and Robert, but Philippe spied upon them, and called Christine filthy names. There was also the time she caught Philippe spying upon her through a hole in the wall of her tiny servant's chamber while she was dressing, and he kept cornering her, whispering in her ear all the things he saw, making her feel utterly disgusted. But the worst time had been last summer, when Christine's body began to develop. _

_Christine had just begun her first menstrual cycle, and Antoinette, knowing how uncomfortable a woman's cycle could be, gave her a special tea to help sooth her body. The tea also made Christine feel quite sleepy, so she went to lie down and rest for a while. She was rudely awakened by a loud, evil laugh, and when she opened her eyes, gasped as she saw Philippe, standing over her, dangling something in his hands. She screamed as he dropped the object on top of her head, and it was then that she realized it was the rag she had been wearing under her dress. She quickly pushed the bloody rag off of her, but Philippe was faster, and with a grip that was five times stronger than her own, he covered her body with his, and held her down. "Open up, Christine…" he snickered, his hand cruelly grabbing her jaw. Christine shook her head wildly, tears streaming down her face, refusing to open her mouth, struggling with all her might to get him off her. _

_He had touched her beneath her clothes; he had purposefully taken the rag off of her while she was sleeping! Oh God above, what else had he done while he was under her skirt? It sickened her, it disgusted her, and she wanted to vomit all over him._

"_Fine, you won't open up, then I'll MAKE you!" he shouted, and without warning, his mouth came crashing down upon hers, and Christine screamed with pain, as his teeth cruelly gripped her bottom lip, and bit it hard, until she could taste her own blood in her mouth. Philippe tore his mouth away and laughed, before taking the rag that she had attempted to push away, and slapping it against her face._

"_Now _that _may help you to look pretty," he laughed once more, before climbing off her and dashing out of the room. From that night on, Christine always slept with a chair jammed against the door._

_Philippe never thought she was pretty, he always made that clear, but he enjoyed torturing her, making her feel disgusted. He enjoyed saying vulgar things, describing repulsive actions, and how he couldn't wait until she was older, so he could play them out on her. He was a few years older than her, and she knew that it would only be a matter of time, before his schooling was completed…and then, she shivered, he would be home for good._

* * *

"Thankfully…he never stayed at home very much," Christine whispered. "He finished his schooling within the following year, at the age of sixteen. But instead of pursing a commission for the King…or preparing himself to become the next baron…he spent much of his time away, drinking, gambling, and visiting different whorehouses," she murmured. "I know, because Baron de Coleville often complained about his son's gambling debts, but Lady Maria said that Philippe had 'wild oats he needed to sew', and in a few years, he would be ready to take a wife, and settle down."

A sudden cracking sound interrupted Christine's story, and her head sprang up and looked in the direction of her husband, who was gripping the fireplace mantle with both hands, his entire body sagging, but every muscle in his back and shoulders looked extremely tense. "My lord?" Christine bit her lip, worried that perhaps he was feeling ill…and unsure as to what had caused that strange sound. "Erik?"

The Black Knight straightened, and slowly, turned to face Christine. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw what looked like tears, shimmering in the golden depths of his eyes. But it was the sight of his hands that startled her above anything else…

His fingers were cut and bleeding. And it was then that she noticed chunks of stone were missing from the mantle of her fireplace.

"Erik!" She rose from her seat and scrambled across the room to his side, concern etched across her face, her hands tenderly reaching out to take his bleeding fingers in her own, but Erik moved away from her with lightning speed, his eyes wild with a vast array of emotions.

"Nay! Do not pity me, Christine!" he growled, warning her to keep away. "After everything you have told me…how can you even think of anyone right now, but yourself?"

Christine was confused by his words. He sounded so angry, and right now, he sounded as if he were angry with her. "Erik, please…we need to wash the blood away, we need to bandage—"

"You think this is bad?" he laughed then, his laughter wild and filled with disgust and anger. "Believe me, my dear, I have been through far worse pain and torture," he practically spat, his voice filled with such venom. "But I am a knight, trained by my father, and then by the King's own guards. I have been trained to withstand torture, to not scream while one's flesh is being cut into! This sort of pain is nothing…" he growled, gazing down upon his cut, bloody hands, his teeth bare and snarling. "Knights are meant to experience pain…_not_ servant girls."

Christine held her breath as Sir Erik's eyes bore deeply into her own.

"Knights are meant to withstand every kind of torture imaginable…not good, innocent, beautiful creatures like you, Christine." His words were clipped, and the tears that Christine swore she had seen earlier, were beginning to shimmer once more. "You are too pure, too…too good, to have suffered such…such atrocities. And even now, NOW, after everything you've revealed to me, after all the harm they have done to you, that HE has done to you…you stand there, and you're worried about MY HANDS!?"

Christine said nothing; with soft, slow steps, she approached him and gently took one of his large hands in hers, cradling it tenderly, as she took a white handkerchief, and gently dabbed at the blood pooling in his palm.

"God almighty," Erik swore. Christine stilled her ministrations, fearing she had hurt him, but when she looked up at him, she could tell by the look in his eyes, that wasn't the reason for his words. "How, Christine? How…how can you have such…such goodness in you, after everything?"

"I am not a saint, Erik, I—"

"You are an angel," he interrupted, refusing to hear her protest otherwise. "You put others before yourself, whether it's your friends, the children…even my own hands," he murmured with awe as she began to dab at the other. "Even now, despite everything, you do not curse them?"

Christine gently wiped away at the blood, biting her lip as her eyes focused on the angry gash that splintered across his fingers. She could see a fragment of stone imbedded in the skin. "I have not forgiven them, if that is what you think," she softly answered. "I don't know if I ever can," she gritted her teeth as she pulled the stone out of his palm, amazed that he did not hiss his pain. Of course he wouldn't…he was a knight of the realm, as he had told her. He had been built to withstand pain.

"I want nothing more than to see Philippe de Coleville's head on a spike," Erik growled, watching with amazement as she tenderly cared for him, pulling him over to a small table that contained the very basin he had used the night before to wash away her virgin's blood. Christine proceeded to pour the water over his hands, and gently dry them with a clean cloth.

"Philippe will meet his end when the time is right, and God will rightly judge him," she murmured, before taking another clean cloth, and ripping it into several pieces, before tenderly bandaging his hands. "I resent my former employers, very much. I resent them for all the years of humiliation and discomfort they have caused me…yet despite everything that has happened in my life…I confess, I will always hold some gratefulness towards them, especially Carlotta."

Erik stared at her in utter shock. "Gratefulness?" his voice was barely above a whisper. "What on earth could you feel grateful for?"

Christine finished her bandage, and looked up at him, her blue eyes strong and sure, as they matched his with a fierce gaze of their own. "For bringing you to me."

Erik's eyes widened and he found himself gazing at her as if she were the one who towered above everything in the room. His breath caught as he felt her soft, small fingers, reach up to tenderly caress his unmasked cheek.

"If Carlotta had not concocted that plan, and if I had not agreed to go along with it…I don't know if I would be standing here before you now," she whispered, her other hand rising then to touch his masked cheek, praying that the warmth of her hand would penetrate its barrier.

Erik let out a long, shaky breath, and his eyes locked fiercely with hers. "I would have found you," he swore, his bandaged hands moving to pull her to him. "I would _not_ have left that place without you, I know this. I would have torn that castle in two, until I discovered you…"

_You are my destiny, Christine. You are the other half of my heart._

Joy flooded Christine's heart then; it was the closest thing she had heard him say to a declaration of love. "Erik…" she whispered, lifting herself up on tiptoe, her eyes fluttering shut, as she parted her moistened lips and offered her mouth to his.

Sir Erik let out a growl, before crushing her against his frame and lifting her off the ground, covering her offered lips with his own, kissing her fiercely, passionately, hungrily; he needed her the same way a man needed air to breathe.

In a matter of seconds, they were on her bed, and neither one of them wasted time with removing their clothes. Erik began kissing down Christine's body, pausing to sample her breasts, while her fingers dug into his hair, hugging his head to her body. "Erik…" she gasped, as she felt his knee move to part her thighs, to which she eagerly complied by wrapping her legs around his waist.

Erik let out a loud groan of pleasure as he felt Christine's small, soft fingers, climb inside his breeches, and touch his aching flesh. "Christine…" he growled, knowing that he needed to be inside her, he needed to be making love to her, he had been thinking of nothing else all day long; it seemed that in Christine's arms, he forgot about his past, he forgot about his face…with her, he felt like a prince from one of her stories.

Both of them quickly pushed his breeches away, and in a matter of seconds, the two were joined once more, their flesh becoming one, their heartbeats beating as one. Christine threw her head back and cried out her pleasure, as she felt Erik thrust deeply inside her; the pain she had experienced the night before when they first came together was gone completely now; he was quite large, but her body seemed to have adjusted perfectly for him.

_She is my match in_ every _way_, Erik thought to himself.

"Erik!" Christine gasped, her arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer, needing to feel him more, needing to know that this was no dream, that he had rescued her, that he was the champion she had always longed for. "Oh God, Erik!" Any other words were cut off, as Erik's mouth covered hers with a searing kiss that would certainly leave bruises on both of their lips.

_She is mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to love! She will never know the horrors she once felt! I will see to it that such worries never invade her thoughts ever again; I will see to it that she only knows pleasure, comfort, and joy. She is mine! MY WIFE!_

Both Erik and Christine threw back their heads as ecstasy swept through them and claimed their bodies once more, leaving them trembling and moaning in the after shocks of pleasure.

And it was then, while Erik's brow came to rest against hers, while she leaned upward and brushed her lips against his own, he realized he could no longer deny the truth…at least not to himself.

_I love her._


	30. Fragile Trust

**Summary: **Christine attempts to gain Sir Erik's trust, and decides to wait no longer on her search for answers to her husband's past...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Fragile Trust_**

Rain was falling, ever so softly, against the glass of Christine's window. The sky remained dark, but the glow of her chamber's fireplace illuminated the room in light and warmth.

However, the greatest warmth could be felt beneath the bed sheets by the couple that lay there, gazing out the window at the rain.

"My old chamber always leaked when it rained," Christine murmured, her cheek pressed against her husband's bare chest. "Until I came here, I've never known a room that didn't leak."

Erik's bandaged hand tightened, just slightly, about his wife's shoulder, pulling her even closer to his body, if that were possible. They had awoken only an hour ago, and made love for a third time, before turning their gaze to look at the falling rain as their bodies relaxed. Christine's beautiful brown hair was spread across his chest like a velvet blanket, her body pressed against his side, one of her arms strewn across his chest, while his own arms held her against him, not wanting to ever let her go.

He was afraid; the mighty warrior, the fearsome Black Knight, was afraid. The last time he had given his heart to a woman, she had betrayed him in the worst possible way. Christine was filled with such goodness, he did not doubt her, but he feared himself and he feared the pain that love could cause. He remembered how his home had been "invaded" by the presence of Christine's former employers, Carlotta and Philippe de Coleville, and he still growled with anger as he recalled the terrifying stories Christine shared with him of her childhood when she worked for them. They had stepped foot into his home, uninvited; and they had done so deliberately, he was sure, to intimidate her and perhaps try to inflict some sort vengeance upon her.

Ah, but his Christine, despite her small size, was a mighty warrior herself. She not only defended herself, but also their home and _his_ name, when they attempted to throw insults at her. She startled them, and he would dare say, frightened them too. They would think twice now, before coming back to Winterbourne…and if they dared tried to come back, he would see to it that it would be the _last_ mistake, they ever made.

But he remembered that look, the look he exchanged with Philippe, before the boy turned and followed his sister. The boy was foolish, thinking he could stare down the Black Knight, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Erik did not like…

_A challenge_.

A growl reverberated in Sir Erik's chest as he recalled that challenging look, and he swore, as he held Christine even tighter to his side, that he would not allow any harm to come to her, that he would see to it that she never, ever, experience such horrible pain and terror, ever again. He would die before allowing Philippe de Coleville to touch her…

"Erik?"

He was shaken from his thoughts and looked down at her. She had turned her head and was gazing up at him, concern written in her deep, blue eyes. "I apologize, Christine," he murmured, leaning down and brushing his lips against her brow. "Nothing to worry about, I did not mean to disturb you."

Christine frowned just slightly. "Were you thinking about Philippe?"

His bride was not only beautiful and kind, but also very intelligent. "I will not deny that after everything you have told me, nothing would give me more pleasure than to send my men out and hunt them down, drag them back here, so that you could take a switch to them until blood spilled…and then let me be alone with them until their screams became nothing more than moans of agony."

Christine shivered and Erik inwardly cursed himself. He did not mean to frighten her in any way. "I'm sorry, I just…I despise injustice, and great injustice was committed against you, and I would give anything to see them—"

The soft feel of Christine's fingers on his lips, stopped Erik's words. She was looking at him with such tenderness, but she was slowly shaking her head. "They have no power over us," she murmured, looking deeply into his eyes. "They know that now."

Did they? Erik was still shaken by that challenging look Philippe had given him. Did the boy think that he could still arrive, unannounced, and threaten Christine? The boy was foolish, yes, but foolishness and danger, quite often went hand in hand.

"Erik…" Christine whispered, drawing his attention back to her as she lifted one if his bandaged hands to her lips, and pressed a sweet, healing kiss, against his palm. "Do not allow them to haunt you. By doing that, you are giving them power, but I have learned since coming here, since knowing you…" she blushed slightly at this, but her smile was trusting and radiant. "They can't harm us, not unless we allow them to."

She was very wise, Erik knew, and she was right. He had asked her to tell him about her past, and he had listened as she told the story of a small, frightened child, who grew to become a brave, loving woman, who had not allowed those horrors to taint her view of life, to keep her hidden in shadows, to keep her heart from loving his children, his home, and…

He remembered the words she had spoken to him that other night, but he was still afraid to believe the truth behind them. She said she loved him, she certainly defended him most passionately against Carlotta and Philippe, and when they made love, she clung to him and mewed his name as no woman had ever done before, not even Beatrice…

Was it possible that an angel such as herself could love a demon such as he?

"What about your father?" he found himself asking, his mind shrinking back into the shadows as opposed to facing his fears. "You mentioned that he visited you when he could?"

Christine was aware of the quick subject change, but said nothing about it. "The last time I saw him was a few days before my fifteenth birthday," she explained, her eyes glazing over with obvious pain from the memory. "He was not well," she whispered. "He looked very pale, and he was sweating terribly. He…he always was very thin," she murmured, swallowing the emotional lump in her throat. "It looked as if he hadn't eaten for days…"

Erik recalled the fear and pain he felt in his own heart when he learned of his father's slow dying. For three long excruciating days, his father lay in bed, his breathing becoming short rasps, until life silently slipped out of him. Erik, however, had time to prepare for his father's death, he had the opportunity to be by his side when he died, to speak comforting words to him, and hear his father's voice one last time.

His father; the only man who ever truly accepted him, despite his lineage.

"Papa told me not to worry about him," Christine murmured, after a long pause. "He told me everything would be alright, that he loved me dearly…" she bit her lip and took a deep breath. "And…and then he gave me a package, before he was told to leave."

Erik's brow furrowed at this news. "A package?"

Christine said nothing, she simply lifted her fingers to wipe her eyes, and Erik tightened his arms around her as he felt her tears drip onto his flesh.

"I received word, a week later, that he had died," she whispered, a small shiver going through her body as she recalled that day in her childhood. She had just finished braiding Carlotta's hair, when Meg ran to fetch her and bring her back to the kitchens. Carlotta was not happy, but Christine didn't listen to the girl's complaints; she could tell by the look in Meg's eyes that it was bad news. She walked to the kitchens, despite Meg's wish to hurry back, and stood before Meg's mother, Antoinette, who looked down at her with sad, dark eyes. It was the first time Christine could recall Antoinette's eyes showing any kind of emotion, but she saw the sadness there…and knew the news, before it was even spoken. Of course, she had no opportunity to properly grieve; Carlotta's demands had to be answered, and Lady Maria held no pity for her. "I wanted to see his body, but I was forbidden to leave; to this day I do not even know what became of…of him," she murmured with a shaky voice.

Erik's teeth were silently grinding inside his mouth. Christine's words on letting the past go and not allowing it to haunt someone were very wise, and very brave. But he could not allow this horrible family to go completely unpunished…

"Erik?" her voice brought him back to the present, and he looked into her upturned eyes, pushing vengeful thoughts back once more. "What happened to you?"

He was confused. What happened to him? What on earth was she talking about? She must have noticed the question in his eyes, for her hand gently moved up to rest against his masked cheek…and in that movement, his entire body went still, and his muscles taut.

_Carlotta_. That witch, he would see her pay. She had talked about his face in front of Christine, no doubt piquing his wife's curiosity, no doubt troubling her heart and mind as to whether she had married a monster.

Well, he knew the answer to that question. He had always been a monster; he simply looked the part, as Beatrice so "lovingly" reminded him, after it had happened. Erik closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he remembered that terrible nightmare he had had the night he had rescued Jacob from drowning. Beatrice had ripped his mask off in front of Christine, and his ears were flooded with screams. He wanted to believe that she was different; he wanted to believe that more than anything…but he didn't trust himself, and he certainly didn't trust his face.

The spell would be broken; the princess would retreat from the beast before her.

"Christine…" his voice was hard, stern, and very cold. He hoped that simply by saying her name in such a way, she would understand that the issue should not be pressed further…

"Does it hurt?"

Erik closed his eyes and summoned his patience. Her words were sweet, and he could hear the concern she held. Truth was that it _did_ hurt when it happened. But that pain had been temporary…it was the pain of rejection and betrayal that hurt more than anything else.

"Was it during battle?" she asked, her hand not leaving his mask, her eyes still looking deeply into his.

_Yes, one could say it was during a battle_, he thought with some amusement; a battle in which he had fought like a farm boy who had never held a sword before. His muscles grew even tenser as he recalled that horrible day, that sword fight in which he had let his guard down, in which he had fought with too much emotion. If he had fought with the cold calculation that he always fought with now, there may not have been a need to wear a mask.

"Do the children know?" she asked, her eyes never leaving his.

Erik was tiring of her questions, and he was growing more and more restless. No, none of the children knew, and he was determined to keep it that way.

"Was it The Jackal?"

Christine had her answer; Erik was tense, but his entire body stiffened at the mere mention of the pirate's name, and she could see, in the dark depths of his golden eyes, years of anger, pain, and hatred, for the man who had left his mark on the Black Knight, the man who forced Sir Erik to wear a mask.

_But it doesn't have to be like this_, Christine thought to herself, her hand never leaving his mask. Perhaps she could show him? She had shouted at Carlotta and Philippe, telling them most passionately how she didn't care what Erik's face looked like, he was her husband and she would stand by him. She would love him no matter what.

"Erik, I—"

But he was rising from the bed before she could even continue. "I think it's time we greeted the day, despite the rain," he muttered, grabbing hold of his breeches and pulling them on.

A cold wind blew into the room, and Christine clutched the sheets to her body. He was shutting her out…again.

"Erik, please…" she reached out touch his hand, but all she felt was air as he moved away from her. She sighed, sadly realizing that this was not going to be simple, and rose from the bed to follow him, the sheets wrapped tightly around her. "Erik, wait, please."

He didn't say anything, but he stopped moving. He was standing only a few inches from her door, his back to her, his tunic clutched tightly in his hands. His muscles were still tense, and he was breathing very deeply.

This was going to be her only chance. "Erik," she reached out and let out a sigh of thankfulness when he did not move away from her, as her hand touched his shoulder. "I know you were listening earlier…"

Erik said nothing, his fist only tightened around his tunic. He knew she was referring to his listening when she ordered Carlotta and Philippe out. And indeed he had been listening, to the entire conversation that took place between his wife and her former employers. And he remembered her words very well; her brave words of loyalty that stirred hope and love in his heart. Was that when he fell in love with her? No…it had been going on for some time now…when, he was not sure, but he had been falling in love with her for a long time.

"Did you not hear what I said to Carlotta?" Christine hoped and prayed that he remembered. "I told her that I didn't care, and I mean it! I don't care about your face, I don't care about the past, I just…Erik, please, don't shut me out, don't push me away…"

He felt her small, soft hands on his shoulders, and with a strength that he was unaware that she possessed, she turned him until he was facing her. God in heaven, he wanted to believe her, he didn't want to lie in shadow any longer. It was cold in shadow, cold and lonely. She had done so much, she had brought light and love into his home, she had brought he and his children together, she had brought hope into his heart, and when she touched him, when she kissed him, when she wrapped her soft arms around him…he was able to forget all the betrayal, all the pain, all the years of loneliness he had lived…

Christine made him feel like a man, not a monster. It had been a very long time since anyone had ever done that.

Christine's eyes were clear and blue, and the tears he could see shimmering in their depths made them even bluer than before. He could drown in her eyes, he could happily die in her arms; surely that was what heaven felt like? "Erik…" she moved her hands up and he opened his mouth, but said nothing as he felt her small, warm palms hold his face between them. "There are too many barriers, too many walls; we think they are meant to protect us, but rather…they trap us within them."

_Oh God in heaven, please…please, Christine, don't ask me to do this…_

"It's time to tear those walls down, to be free…" her eyes never left his, and he could feel her fingers, on the right side of his face, the side that was covered by his mask, slowly inch upward, to where the leather band lay that kept it secure around his head. "Erik…I love you," she repeated, softly, but clearly, and Erik felt the breath from his body leave him at her sweet declaration. The last time she had said the words was after they had made love, and while he wanted to believe her, he simply excused it as a young woman's response to passion. But here they were, standing before one another, hours after they had last made love, hours after they had experienced passion…what excuse could he make now? Did he _want_ to make an excuse?

"Erik, I love you," Christine said once more, her voice stronger and clearer, and as she had done earlier, when she had been tending to his injured hands, he looked at her as if she towered above him, completely in awe of the woman she was. "I love you, and nothing will change that, _nothing_," she emphasized, her fingers now running along the leather band. He was extremely aware of it; how could he not be? It was the only thing that kept his mask secure, the only thing that kept her looking at him with loving admiration, and not screaming in absolute terror.

"Erik…" he held his breath as he felt her fingers gently grip the leather band. "Let me see you…"

He wanted to grant her this one wish. A part of him was screaming to allow her to slip away his most precious shield, and reveal to her his true face, a face he was ashamed of, a face he hated, a face that reminded him of all the wrongs he had committed in life, both to himself, and to others. She was different; she was not Beatrice, who shied away from him after his battle with The Jackal. She was not a village prostitute who had to be desperate for money to allow him to touch her. She was not Elizabeth, who only agreed to marry him because she was an obedient girl who would do whatever her father requested…while secretly lusting after a man who he had believed to be a good friend. Did he imagine it? Or did Christine actually crave his touch? Was he dreaming? Or was she actually standing before him, a simple bed sheet wrapped around her body, telling him that she loved him? She had shown great loyalty to him and his name; she had defended him in the presence of enemies, and she seemed to trust him and his word. God, he wanted to believe her, he wanted her to prove to him that she was right, that even without his mask, she would still love him, she would still desire him, she would still crave his touch, his kiss, his heart…

But that was the risk, wasn't it? He would be risking her love, by allowing her to see his face. And that was too great a risk for him.

"No."

Christine froze and stared up at him, her fingers still touching the band that held his mask, but she felt the strength that had been fueling her, leave with that one, simple word.

He hadn't raised his voice; he hadn't even spoken harshly, like she had imagined he may if he would not listen to her. His jaw was set, his eyes were strong, and they were gazing, deeply, back at her. He looked calm…and very cold. Christine's hand fell away, as if the very feel of his mask froze her skin. Indeed, deep in her heart, she felt frozen.

"But Erik—"

"If you wanted my land, I would give it to you. Jewels? Done. The finest clothes and perfumes? Just tell me how much, and I would leave right now to fetch them for you…but this thing, this _simple_ thing that you ask…is not simple, not to me," he whispered, low and deep, his eyes cutting into hers. "And I can't grant you that."

Christine felt as if she had been slapped. She actually stumbled backwards, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes, her mouth open, but no words coming out. What could she say? She had told him she loved him, repeatedly, she had told him she didn't care about his face, she had defended him before Carlotta and Philippe, she had made love to him and cried out her desire for him!

But it didn't matter, she realized. It didn't matter what she said or did…he would never trust her enough. And this new, painful realization, cut deep into her heart, as she began to fear that perhaps…he would never love her, at least not the way she loved him. He had affection for her, he had shown her when they had made love how deeply he cared for her and her comfort, but was it love? Could it be love? Would he even try?

_No…he won't._

Christine felt her throat close as tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. He looked at her, his expression cold and unreadable…and without another word, he turned on his heel and left her standing there, clutching the sheet tightly around her body, her skin feeling so numb.

She had thought that surely, if he showed her his face, and she showed him that she loved him regardless, that she still desired him, still wanted him…he would not be afraid to hide his past from her, that he would not be afraid to open his heart to her!

She listened as his steps retreated from her chamber, and a voice screamed in her mind to go after him, to grab his mask regardless of what he had said, and rip it from his face.

But she could never do that; _he_ had to be the one willing to do it.

She was shaking with the need to cry, to throw herself face down on her bed and sob over her shattered dreams of love, to wallow in sadness and self-pity, to give in to her tears.

But instead of sadness, she felt anger, and her jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists.

_I'm not giving up_, she vowed to herself. This wasn't over, that was NOT the final word on the matter.

A gust a wind blew in through her window, and Christine turned her head towards it, her hair blowing wildly about her, and she glared at the dark gray sky that threatened the cliffs on which Winterbourne stood. Not caring who heard her or what they thought, she shouted at the sky, "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL! I HATE WHAT YOU DID TO HIM, AND I HATE WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO US!" She rushed towards the window then and gripped its edge, her head sticking out, the rain slashing against her face, but she didn't care, she was fueled with rage! "YOU VILLAINOUS WITCHES BETRAYED HIM, HURT HIM, AND LEFT HIM WITH FIVE CHILDREN TO RAISE!" Her voice softened then, her tone filled with dark promise. "But I am here now…and I will learn the truth! I will heal the wounds that you caused! DO YOU HEAR ME BEATRICE? ELIZABETH? I WILL SEE YOUR GHOSTS EXORCISED!"

* * *

Meg was already hard at work in the kitchens when Christine found her an hour later. She was making bread and looked extremely weary, pausing every now and then to push a fallen strand of copper-colored hair from her face, and place a hand on her swollen belly.

"The baby will be coming soon," Christine murmured from the kitchen entrance.

Meg looked up, startled to see Christine standing there, and immediately rose to her feet, concern written across her face. She could tell that something bad had happened. "You're up very early, is everything alright?"

Christine couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's words, even though the chuckle was quite weak. "Waking up early is still second nature. It was only several weeks ago that I wasn't a servant, remember?"

A month. Christine couldn't believe that for nearly an entire month, she had known a life other than that of a servant. Yet here she was, the mistress of a great castle, the wife of the King's favorite knight…and yet despite all the time that had passed, she still felt lost.

"Christine, what is the matter?" Meg asked, coming closer to her friend and turning them both away from the kitchen so that the other kitchen maids, who were trying to listen in but also look very busy, wouldn't hear. As soon as Meg felt they were out of earshot, she spoke again. "Is it Sir Erik? Did the two of you quarrel?"

Quarrel? If only it were that simple.

"I told him I love him…" Christine whispered, a deep blush coloring her cheeks.

Meg gasped, and her eyes lit up with happiness for her friend…but then the light disappeared as she noticed the sadness in Christine's blue eyes. Forgetting all about her work, Meg took Christine by the arm and led them both to the privacy of her own chamber; Robert would be out in the stables by now, they would be alone and able to talk.

As soon as the door was shut, Meg rounded on Christine, clutching her friend's hands and gazing deeply into the young woman's eyes. "What did he say? Does he believe you?" A thousand scenarios were going through Meg's head, none of them ending happily.

Christine groaned and threw her hands up into the air, clearly irritated by the whole situation. "I thought…I thought surely, after hearing my feelings, he would not feel it necessary to hide from me!" Christine began pacing the room and Meg quietly sat down on the edge of her bed and listened as her friend continued. "I told him everything…everything about my past, about my life at Baron de Coleville's home, not because I wanted to be pitied, but because he asked me to tell him, and I thought…perhaps by answering his questions and revealing my life to him…maybe he will tell me about himself? I thought after he heard me shout at Carlotta and Philippe—"

Meg's eyes widened and she reached out and caught Christine's arm. "Carlotta and Philippe were here!?"

Christine nodded her head. "I think they had come with hopes to frighten me, and they tried…they tried to turn me against Sir Erik by telling me about his face, even though neither of them have seen it," she muttered with disgust. "And I told them it didn't matter, that he was my husband and I would not turn away from him, and I know he was listening to me, I know he heard me…and I thought, after everything he heard, after telling him how much I loved him, after opening myself up, I thought…I thought that surely…surely…"

Christine collapsed next to her friend, emotion bubbling up in her throat and frustration filling her mind to the point that she could no longer talk. She was angry, upset, terrified, and heartbroken. "I'm a fool, Meg, a complete idiot," she muttered to herself, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. "I asked him to remove his mask, to show me his face, feeling that by doing just that, and showing him that I didn't care what he looked like, that I still love him, that I still desire him…" she sighed and wiped her cheeks of the few traitorous tears that had escaped. "But instead of drawing him close…I pushed him away."

"Oh Christine," Meg murmured, reaching out and enveloping her friend in her arms. "He is a man who has faced many demons, and who has sadly had his trust betrayed, repeatedly. It will take time for him to trust another, especially with his heart…but do not despair Christine," Meg lifted her friend's face, and smiled deeply. "I know he loves you…I have seen it in the way he glances at you when you aren't looking."

"Oh Meg," Christine murmured with a sad, soft smile. "I want to believe you, I—"

"It's true, Christine," Meg said, rather firmly. "I am a woman who is deeply in love with her husband, and I know, deep in my heart, that Robert loves me just as fiercely. Every man is different, but when a man is in love…they are all the same. The looks Sir Erik gives you are the same looks that Robert gives me. They are looks of love and affection. Sir Erik loves you Christine…find strength in that truth."

For the first time since she had spoken with her husband, Christine felt hope rise in her heart at Meg's assurance. But her eyes quickly darkened, and she quickly rose to her feet, that determination that had fueled her an hour ago in her chamber, returning once more. "I need to find out everything I can about Elizabeth, and Beatrice too! I also need to learn more about this pirate who called himself The Jackal…I believe he is the man responsible for Sir Erik's scars."

Meg looked at Christine with confusion. "The Jackal is the reason Sir Erik wears the mask? How did you find out? Did Sir Erik tell you?"

Christine shook her head. "Nay…but when I mentioned the villain's name, Erik froze, just as I do when someone mention's Philippe's name," Christine murmured with a shiver.

Meg nodded her head, biting her lip as she took in everything Christine had told her, both now, and from the other day. "Do you still believe Sir Raoul to be The Jackal?"

Christine's brow furrowed. "Erik is convinced he killed The Jackal years ago, and I believe him…but I do think that someone who has vengeance in mind for the Black Knight, has taken up The Jackal's mantle…and Sir Raoul is the most likely person."

Meg nodded her head and slowly rose to her feet. "We do need to find out everything we can about Elizabeth…she is the link between Sir Erik and Sir Raoul."

_And she is also responsible for Erik's fear of trusting his heart with anyone_, Christine thought to herself, her fists clenching at her sides. She never knew the young woman, but right now, Christine felt no pity for the girl, simply hatred. And then there was Beatrice, a woman who Christine knew so little about, but whom Christine did not believe was innocent in all this. Like Elizabeth, Beatrice had also mysteriously disappeared, but there was something else about the woman, something that made Christine's blood run cold.

Just then, the door to Meg's chamber opened, and Robert entered, looking tired and sweaty from his work in the stables. He looked surprised when he saw his wife and friend standing in the room. "Meg? I thought you were in the kitchens?" his eyes grew wider and he rushed towards his wife's side. "Is it the baby?"

"I'm fine, my love, truly," Meg smiled, patting her husband's bearded cheek with a loving hand, and leaning up on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. "Christine simply needed to talk to me, and I brought her here so that other ears would not spy."

Robert nodded his head, glad to hear that his wife and the baby were fine, and then turned his attentions to Christine, a soft smile lighting his handsome face. "We have not had much time to talk together, you and I," he murmured to the girl who he always thought of as a younger sister. "Are you well, milady?"

Christine blushed at Robert's formal words and reached out and playfully swatted his chest. "I insist that both you and Meg call me by my name; I will not go about and be referred to as 'milady' by my dearest friends who I worked alongside for twelve years!"

Robert chuckled, but his eyes grew concerned for a moment as he gazed at Christine. "But _is_ everything well? I just helped Sir Erik saddle his horse; his eyes were filled with rage, it made the hairs on my neck stand on it."

Christine's face paled at Robert's words, and Meg reached out and gripped her friend's hand. "S-s-sir Erik is leaving?" she managed to get out through trembling lips.

Robert looked confused. "Nay, he left nearly an hour ago…he took two of his men with him, they were heading south at a thunderous pace."

"Christine, do not panic, I am sure—"

But Christine didn't bother to hear Meg's words, she was already flying from the chamber, through the hallways and the castle's great hall, until she was out in the courtyard, looking frantically about her. She raced to the stables and searched inside for Sir Erik's mighty black charger, but found that the horse was gone.

It was true then; he had left. And he did so without warning…

"Milady?"

Christine felt numb all over, that it wasn't until Bernard touched her arm that she realized he was even speaking to her. "Milady? Are you unwell?"

Christine stared at Bernard for a moment, and finally she was brought back to the present. She gripped the tunic of Sir Erik's steward and looked frantic. "Where has he gone? Do you know? Did he say anything? How long will he be away? Why did he not take you? Why—"

"Milady, please!" Bernard gripped Christine's forearms and gently pushed her away. Ophelia was coming to them then, and with one look at his wife, she quickly wrapped her arms around Christine's shoulders, easing her away, murmuring calming words into the young woman's ear.

Christine still looked frantic, but she took a deep, calming breath, and silently awaited Bernard's news.

"His lordship did not say where he was going…but that he would be back before the week's end," he stated, squaring his shoulders. "He asked me to manage the castle while he was away, to see after you and the children, and ordered that no visitors were to be permitted."

Christine trembled at Bernard's words. If Erik was so concerned for her well being, concerned to the point of keeping anyone who was a stranger out, why then would he leave? Where had he gone? She could tell by the look in Bernard's eyes that he wasn't keeping secrets from her, he was, in fact, telling the truth; he had no idea where Sir Erik was going.

"It was…it was not a summons by the King?" she asked, although she knew the answer already.

"Nay, milady," Bernard sighed, feeling sadness that he could not give her more information. "But I am sure everything will be alright, he will return as promised, I saw the determination in his eyes."

Christine's brow furrowed. Determination in his eyes? She trembled again as she thought of the dangers he was racing off to face; surely he was going in pursuit of The Jackal? Perhaps he was traveling back to Valmour? Nay, Valmour was south and to the west, Robert had said that Sir Erik was racing southwards, and simply that. Did he receive another scroll, and did not tell her? Did he also suspect Sir Raoul, and was going off to face him? Why didn't he say _anything_ to her?

"Come, my dear," Ophelia murmured, leading Christine from the muddy courtyard, back inside the castle. Both Robert and Meg were standing in the entryway, looking confused and worried for their friend. "Everything will be well," Ophelia reassured, with a squeeze to Christine's shoulders.

Anne appeared then, also looking distressed, and immediately went to fetch a pot of tea for her young mistress, as Ophelia and Christine sat in two large chairs. Meg shushed Robert away, and stood nearby as Anne returned and poured the tea. All of them were looking at Christine with concern.

"Did you see him, Anne? Before he left this morning?" Christine asked, looking up at the old woman, hope and worry written in her eyes.

Anne sighed and sadly shook her head. "Nay, my dear. I went to the Master's chambers this morning, but they were empty. I thought perhaps he would be down here, awaiting his breakfast, but he was not in the dining hall either."

"I saw him, but only briefly," Ophelia sighed. "I watched from the window of our cottage, Bernard talking with Sir Erik. He looked…" she shivered as she recalled the look in his fiery gold eyes. "I have seen him angry before, but this…this was truly terrifying."

Christine groaned and buried her face in her hands. "This is all my fault! He has left because I asked him to show me his face, fool that I am!"

Both Anne and Ophelia gasped, and the old woman gripped the edge of Christine's chair for balance. "Oh child, ye didn't?"

Christine lifted her head, the tears flowing freely this time and she nodded, feeling utterly ashamed. "I wanted to show him that I didn't care what he looked like beneath it, that I love him no matter what…"

Anne clasped a hand to her bosom and murmured a prayer to the heavens, while Ophelia gasped and then smiled brightly at Christine's words. "You love Sir Erik?" she asked, her smile growing more and more. She had been hoping that Sir Erik and Christine would fall in love, just as she and Bernard loved one another.

"Oh bless ye, child, bless ye!" Anne gasped, grabbing hold of Christine's hand. "Ye will do the Master much good—oh what am I saying? Ye are already doing him good! Look at what ye have done with the children! Oh, I knew ye were heaven sent, my dear, I knew it!"

Christine smiled weakly at the praise, but she still felt horrible. "I could tell him that I love him until my face turns blue," she sighed. "It doesn't matter if he is not willing to trust me…" her words trailed off then as she gazed up at Anne and Ophelia, and then flew her eyes towards Meg.

Meg smiled a knowing smile and nodded her head. "The more help we have, the faster we'll solve this mystery."

"Mystery?" Ophelia looked confused. "What mystery?"

A slow, steady smile began to spread across Christine's face, as she looked at her other two, dear friends. "Anne, Ophelia, I desperately need your help with learning everything I can about Beatrice, Elizabeth, Sir Raoul, and The Jackal."

Anne gasped and looked as if she were going to faint. Ophelia paled at Christine's words, and also looked rather unsure. But Meg gripped the old woman by the shoulders, and Christine took Ophelia's hand in hers. "I understand that you are nervous, I know that many of these secrets have remained dormant for many years, and no doubt, many believe they are best to remain that way…but I need to know the truth," she looked deeply into their eyes. "Sir Erik may believe it is his duty to protect myself, the children, and Winterbourne, but it is my duty too…and someone _must_ protect him. I love him, and I will do everything I can to make sure that no harm comes to him, from any past enemies, dead or alive."

Anne quickly crossed herself, but remained steady. Ophelia still looked nervous, but swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded her head for Christine to continue. Christine then told the two women everything she had shared with Meg, explaining her worries, her theories, and her discoveries since she had come to Winterbourne. The two women were leaning forward in fascination and surprise with everything Christine shared. Ophelia did not know about Sir Raoul's desire for Elizabeth, and Anne had never once suspected that Sir Raoul and The Jackal could be the same person. They all thought it strange that both Beatrice and Elizabeth suffered the same fate, and by the time Christine had finished, the two women looked like children, leaning in to a story they had just heard a great bard tell.

"I never truly knew Elizabeth…" Ophelia confessed. "But…I do know of her family."

Christine's eyes went wide at this revelation. "You know her parents!?"

Ophelia shook her head. "Not exactly…but I do know where they live."

Anne confirmed Ophelia's words. "Aye, they live not far from here, hence why Elizabeth would often travel on foot to Winterbourne."

It was a start, at the very least. "Ophelia? I think the mistress of Winterbourne Castle should pay her respects," Christine stated as she rose to her feet, her body rigid with determination. "Will you be so kind as to take me to their home?"


	31. Family Woes

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_--Hi everyone, no I did not fall off the face of the earth, although it does feel like I've been in a coma with how long its been since I last posted. The story is that my work place has become a little hellish; a coworker noticed how during some of my lunch breaks I was going to FanFic, and more or less tattled on me. I didn't get into too much trouble, it the incident has discouraged me somewhat, I won't deny, especially since I don't believe I was doing anything wrong (I was getting what was expected of me finished, and on time). Besides that, I got the flu (again) and then there was the whole stress involving taxes, and to top it all off...I was hit with writer's block. I apologize to all of you for having to wait this long. I confess, I haven't been checking my email mainly because I was depressed that I hadn't written anything new, and I knew there were people anxiously waiting and I felt horrible that I was disappointing them. Well, I hope this chapter can begin to make up for some of that. The next few weeks look very busy for me, but once Easter has come, I hope to have more time dedicated to writing and updating both my stories. I just want to thank you all for your support and for sticking with me. I really appreciate it and I want you to know how dearly I appreciate all of you. In the end, it's your words that inspire me and keep me going; authors would be nothing without great readers like yourselves. One last thing, and then I promise I'll stop yapping. Because I knew this chapter took a long time to come, I chose to reveal one of its mysteries. Some of you may have already guessed and suspected this answer, but let it be known that Christine is slowly, closing in on the truth of Sir Erik's past. I do hope you enjoy!**

**Thank you and much love, Lady Rosesong**

* * *

**Summary: **In the wake of Sir Erik's sudden departure, Christine and Ophelia venture forth to meet Elizabeth's family...and make a startling discovery...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Family Woes_**

"Hell and damnation!" Philippe roared, kicking a chair over in the small inn room that both he and his sister occupied.

Carlotta lazily glanced up at her brother from the bed where she lounged, rolling her eyes as she watched him pace back and forth like a caged tiger. "Temper, temper, big brother."

Philippe glared at his sister. "I don't think you understand, _dear sister_," he practically hissed. "But Sir Erik's unexpected departure ruins EVERYTHING!" Without warning, Philippe picked up the very chair he had kicked over and threw it with all his might against a wall, causing the chair to shatter into a thousand splinters.

Carlotta yawned. "So he's going away…so what? We can still carry out our plan—"

"No, we can't!" Philippe growled, his hands gripping the windowsill of their small inn room. "Him being there was very important!"

Carlotta sat up, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the tense back of her brother. "Why must we carry out the original plan? Why can't we change our plans now?"

Philippe didn't say anything, he simply grunted and continued to stare out the window.

Carlotta slowly rose to her feet, an icy chill running down her back. "I don't understand; I thought you would be pleased with him gone…after all, I know that the only reason you're helping me at all is because you want Christine for yourself," she spat. Carlotta didn't like Sir Erik; he was menacing, cold, much older than her, and she truly believed he had the face of the devil beneath his mask. She wanted nothing to do with him…but she did want his fortune, and the title of Lady Carlotta von Desslar, mistress of Winterbourne Castle. Her father explained to her that Sir Erik was a favorite of the King; who knows? Perhaps, with Sir Erik's influence, she too could find favor with the King…

Philippe didn't turn his head, but his eyes did slide to look at her just over his shoulder. It was a look that made Carlotta's blood run cold, an evil, frightening look, and one that reminded Carlotta of a snake. No doubt he didn't like what she said about him wanting Christine, although it was true. That was something Carlotta never truly understood, her brother's obsession with Christine…or his sudden interest in thwarting Sir Erik.

"You have forgotten, dear sister," Philippe hissed, "that in order for you to claim the fortune and title that you apparently _must_ have, we need Sir Erik. Getting Christine is only half of the plan…but the other half, the larger half, the more important half…" Philippe emphasized, his voice growing louder by the minute. "Is having Sir Erik present, as well!"

He pounded his fist hard into the wall of the room, leaving a dent in the wooden surface. Carlotta swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at the dent for some time, before speaking further. "One thing you have never explained to me, Philippe…" she began, her eyes carefully watching the figure of her brother. "Why are you so determined to see Sir Erik's destruction?"

Silence greeted her question, and Carlotta realized then that she wasn't going to receive an answer. Perhaps the reason Philippe despised Sir Erik so much was because Sir Erik had achieved the one thing Philippe had not been able to—bedding Christine.

A pout began to form on Carlotta's pink lips, and then quickly spread across her pretty face, until angry and frustrated tears stung her dark eyes. What was it about Christine!? Why did both her brother, and Sir Erik, want her? She was nothing special, she wasn't very pretty…well, she never looked pretty when she wore rags or had dirt on her face, but that didn't matter! Christine was nobody! A servant! And that wretch had no right stealing her rightful husband, a man of nobility, of wealth, of privilege…

Carlotta ceased her pouting as a sudden realization came to her…

Christine was a servant! She had been born into the servant class, and nothing, save for a royal pardon, could change that! And Sir Erik was a knight, a noble! And as such, he could only _legally_ marry women of his same class, women like _her_…

Why hadn't she made this realization earlier!? Carlotta grinned quite wickedly as a new plan began to form inside her head. It was perfect! She didn't care about her brother's stupid plot, she was going to come up with one of her own! Let him brood…she had work to do.

Philippe didn't even seem to react as he heard his sister leave the small room. He continued to stare out the window, his jaw rigid and set, his dark, demonic eyes, glaring northward, in the direction of Winterbourne.

And all the while, Carlotta's question continued to echo in his head. _"Why are you so determined to see Sir Erik's destruction?"_

If she only knew…

Ah, but then if she did…he would have to kill her.

* * *

It had taken a great deal of time and explanation to convince both Meg and Anne that it was best that they did not accompany Christine and Ophelia to the home of Elizabeth's family.

Meg was insistent that she come along; after all, she was Christine's closest friend and had been working with her in solving this mystery for a few days now. Anne felt it was her responsibility to look after her young mistress; Sir Erik would never forgive her if anything became of Christine, Anne declared. Plus, being one of the oldest servants to the Black Knight, Elizabeth's family may feel more at ease with delivering information.

But in the end, Ophelia was able to convince them both it would be best to stay behind. Meg's baby was due any day now, and the journey would be long, over a rough, rocky terrain. Also, Meg and Anne were servants, and others might grow suspicious if they noticed that they were missing. No, it was for the best that they stay behind, while Christine and Ophelia journey alone.

The morning had been long and tiring. After Sir Erik's sudden disappearance, Christine went to the see the children. All of them were asleep, save for Jacob, who was looking out his chamber window. Christine realized, as she watched Jacob from the doorway, that his chamber overlooked the stables. "He told me that the next time he was summoned by the King, he would take me with him…" Jacob whispered, not even turning his head to look at her. The boy clearly had inherited his father's instincts.

Christine hugged her arms around her body and quietly entered the chamber. "I do not believe he was summoned by the King," she whispered. "But he told Bernard that he would be back before the week was over."

Jacob didn't say anything; he simply continued to stare out at the gray courtyard. Moments later, his siblings were awake, curious to know what had happened to their father. It still amazed Christine how quickly the children's feelings towards their father had changed; no, she corrected herself, their feelings had always been filled with love and need, they, just like their father, had never really known how to express it. But a delicate trust had been built between them, and Christine found herself making up a story to explain why their father had so quickly departed, without even telling them all he was leaving.

"Pirates have attacked the southern shores, and Sir Erik has ridden out to frighten them away," Christine lied. She hoped and prayed that it was far from the truth; if anything happened to Erik…

"Pirates!?" Charles gasped.

The twins looked frightened. "W-w-will Papa b-be all right?" one of them asked.

"Of course he will be!" Helena declared, lifting her chin proudly. "He's the Black Knight, everyone fears the Black Knight."

Christine glanced at Jacob, who was looking back at her with an unreadable expression. She would not be shocked if the boy saw through her story, but he said nothing against it, he simply remained silent.

Christine spent the rest of the morning with the children, not feeling comfortable about leaving them so soon, especially after the sudden disappearance of their father…and if truth be told, Christine was also extremely nervous about riding out to meet the family of Sir Erik's first wife, and any excuse was welcome at the moment. She worked with the children in the rose garden, played a few of their favorite games with them, and after some convincing from Charles, climbed atop a rather large horse, and rode around the courtyard with Jacob. It was a shame that the fun would have to end…and a shame that Sir Erik could not be there to experience it with them.

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, Christine explained that she had to pay some visits to the tenants that worked the land, as was her duty as Lady von Desslar. Meg and Anne weren't the only ones Christine and Ophelia had to convince not to come; immediately all of the children, save for Jacob, began begging her to take them along. However, despite their pouts and pleas, Christine remained firm, and the children reluctantly accepted their defeat.

Ophelia made all the arrangements for their journey. She did not tell Bernard where they were going, but she did arrange for one of the younger castle guards to accompany them; this way it did not raise suspicion, and Ophelia knew that she had a responsibility to keep her mistress safe.

Christine turned to gaze at the castle from the wagon she was sitting in, seeing all of the children, save for Jacob, waving goodbye to her, their pouts from before still evident. However, they also looked content, knowing that she would soon return to them; Christine only wished they could have such faith in their father. _But in truth, even I don't know where he has gone!_ Christine's heart sank even further; she was to blame for his disappearance, she had pushed him too far. So much progress had been made, and yet…by asking him to remove his mask and show her his face…she had destroyed all the good that had been created.

"I noticed all of the children waving goodbye, save for Jacob," Ophelia murmured, after they had traveled a good distance.

The wagon in which they were riding went over many bumps on the road, and Christine was grateful for Ophelia's insistence that Meg stay behind. "Yes…I think…I think he knows that something is not right," she whispered.

A sad smile formed on Ophelia's pretty face, and she reached out to touch Christine's shoulder. "He is a boy who yearns to become a man, and for the first time in his life, is being treated as such."

Christine shook her head. "True…but he is a boy who yearns to become his father."

Ophelia smiled at Christine's words. "You truly have worked miracles, my dear. It's still hard for me to believe that those two, who once seemed to despise each other so passionately, are now finally behaving as a father and son ought to behave."

Christine shook her head. "I do not deserve the praise or the credit for the truce they have created; the children wanted a father, and I do believe Sir Erik wanted to be that for them, but was unsure how. He felt…disconnected, I believe. Unsure how to reach out to them after so many years of being away." _And after years of betrayal_, she thought to herself.

"True," Ophelia agreed. "But if you hadn't come, who knows; they may very well still be playing practical jokes on all the servants, and Sir Erik may have given in to the temptation to drown them."

Christine chuckled softly at Ophelia's joke, but it was difficult to be merry when such thoughts and worries plagued her mind…and when she thought about where they were going, as well.

"Ophelia, you've mentioned how you have been married to Bernard, and lived at Winterbourne, for twelve years?"

The auburn-haired beauty nodded her head, although her eyes were lit with curious worry at Christine's question.

"I only ask because…" Christine bit her lip and turned her gaze to the passing countryside. "When you came to live at Winterbourne…did you…did you see Sir Erik much?"

Ophelia's brow creased with confusion. "On occasion, mainly when he wished to speak with Bernard, but—"

"No, I mean…" Christine took a deep breath and turned her head back to her friend. "I mean…did you see his…his face? Or…or was he already wearing the mask?"

Ophelia closed her mouth, understanding washing over her as she gazed back at Christine. She reached out and took hold of the young woman's hand. "Nay, meaning he was not wearing the mask when I first met him."

Christine let out a long, shaky sigh, although she wasn't sure what this accomplished. She loved Sir Erik, mask or no mask, scars or none. She knew that the face he had now was not the face Ophelia had first seen upon meeting her husband's lord and master, but she was curious, and yearned to know more about the man who filled her dreams at night and her thoughts by day. "Tell me about him? Please? Everything you can remember…"

Ophelia nodded her head and gently squeezed Christine's hand. "I did not come into much contact with him, truth be told. Bernard was often up before daybreak, so it wasn't often that Sir Erik would come to our cottage. But…I remember being terribly frightened when first I met him…"

Christine's eyes widened. "Truly?"

Ophelia couldn't help but grin. "I was quite young then, and he was a massive dark giant with a deep booming voice to match! He terrified me, I confess," she giggled. "In fact…little about his appearance has changed; he still has that long, shaggy black mane, his jaw is still rigid and defined, his nose is still straight and narrow, and his eyes…" Ophelia shuddered at the memory. "His eyes were the things that terrified me the most! In all my life, I've never seen a man with such eyes…and the way they penetrate deep into one's own…"

Christine was nodding her head to Ophelia's descriptions, but her body was being flooded with warmth and desire at the memory of her husband's striking features. Indeed, when she first met Sir Erik, he had shocked her…and would be lying to say that a part of her wasn't a little afraid of him. But as time went by, her fears melted…and when was it exactly that she began to see him as handsome? When was it exactly that she realized she was falling in love with him? Perhaps she always had…

"He wore the mask after…" Ophelia paused and bit her lip. She wanted to share everything she could with Christine, but she also felt that it wasn't her place to talk about such things.

Christine turned her eyes back to Ophelia, a blend of curiosity and concern lit in their blue depths. "After a battle?"

"Yes…" Ophelia murmured, although Christine could tell there was more to the story than what Ophelia was saying.

"It was the Jackal." Christine's words were not a question, but a statement. She remembered how Sir Erik tensed in her arms when she had asked him about the mask, and asked if The Jackal was the cause behind it. Ophelia bit her lip even harder at Christine's words, but nodded her head to confirm what Christine already knew.

"I do not know much else…" Ophelia explained. "I remember Bernard rushing into our cottage late at night, shouting that I take the boys to the castle and hide with the servants. Hours later, I remember seeing him stumble back inside the castle, dragging Sir Erik with him, and…I remember there was much blood…all across the floor…" she shuddered as the memory came alive once more before her eyes. "Only The Jackal would cause such fear in Bernard, so I knew that was who Sir Erik had fought. I…I never saw Sir Erik's face…but…with all the blood, I…I could only imagine…" Ophelia turned her head and took in a deep breath to regain her composure. "From that day on, I never knew him without the mask. No one has. Sir Erik never allows anyone to see him without it, not even the children."

Christine's jaw tightened at Ophelia's words. Erik hid his face not out of fear of what the world would think of him…but out of fear of rejection. She had always believed, deep in her heart, that Beatrice was connected somehow in this whole mystery. And while she did not have the answer yet…she knew that Beatrice was the reason Sir Erik refused to trust her with his heart.

Of course, Elizabeth also had blame to share. Her betrayal did little to strengthen Erik's trust in women, and while Erik made it clear that he did not love Elizabeth, no doubt her actions with Sir Raoul had made it difficult for him to think that a woman could love him, let alone be faithful only to him.

Sir Raoul. Christine had not given the handsome blonde knight much thought since she had first mentioned to Meg how she suspected he was putting on the guise of The Jackal. He was the most likely suspect, after all, she believed Erik was right in his insistence that The Jackal of old was dead. And while her meeting with Sir Raoul had been most brief, Christine recalled the crazed look that filled his eyes at the mere mention of Elizabeth's name. Had he truly fallen in love with Elizabeth? At first, Christine thought that Raoul had only been interested in bedding Elizabeth, but if that were true, then why had he looked so angry and cold? Only a man who truly cared for another would look that way. Unless he was upset with Sir Erik for different reasons, but what? This led to a number of other questions; how close were Sir Erik and Sir Raoul prior to Elizabeth's betrayal and disappearance? Was that another piece of the puzzle? If Sir Raoul had been a dear friend, Erik not only experienced pain and betrayal from Elizabeth, but also from Raoul. After all, the man did tell Elizabeth that her husband was dead, and quickly began consoling her in a manner that held very little grief for the Black Knight.

Christine shivered as she imagined the pain and betrayal Sir Erik must have felt. She knew that lust was considered a sin, but she had never truly contemplated the amount of evil it could do, like having a trusted friend leaving you for dead on a battlefield, only to rush home to bed your own wife. How despicable…

"We are nearly there," Ophelia murmured, interrupting Christine's thoughts. They had been traveling for some time, but the hours seemed like mere moments. Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as she looked up to see a small, run-down manner, just ahead of them.

It was obvious that the manner did not always look the way it did now. In fact, it was easy to imagine how grand looking the manner must have been. Yet many of its walls were crumpling, and the thatched roof looked thin, and there were several large holes at its edges. The garden that surrounded the manner was dead, save for the weeds that filled its patches. Even the trees and grass looked dead, the leafs dull and brown. Yet there were signs of life; smoke could be seen, rising from a chimney, and in several windows stood small, soft glowing candles. Elizabeth's family…they still lived there. And Christine had never felt more nervous in her life.

"Let me speak with them first," Ophelia advised as the wagon drew closer and closer. "I do not know them well, but hopefully they will recognize me from the wedding."

Christine swallowed the large lump in her throat and nodded her head. How would these people react once they learned who she was? Would they resent her? Would they resent Sir Erik? A shiver went through Christine and she began to doubt her reasoning for coming here in the first place.

The guard who had driven the wagon pulled the horses to a stop, and helped both Ophelia and Christine down. Ophelia clasped a basket filled with fruit, vegetables, and other dried goods, and with her head held high, walked towards the manner's main rotting door, and lightly tapped its surface. Christine remained a few feet behind, her hands clasped in front of her, wishing that she had thought about bringing a gift as well.

The door opened immediately, and an old, bent over woman, stood in front of them, her beady green eyes boring into the figure of Ophelia. "Who are you!?" the woman demanded, her voice not sounding nearly as old as she looked.

Ophelia put on a pleasant smile and bowed her head to the woman. "Good day. I have come with gifts from Winterbourne Castle."

The old woman's eyes darkened at the mention of the black fortress, and Christine swore she could see smoke coming out of the woman's nostrils. "I'll have none of _his_ goods," the woman spat with great vehemence.

Christine was taken aback by the woman's harsh words, and a cold realization settled over her. At first, she had assumed the woman to be a servant, but upon closer inspection, she could see that despite the lines and wrinkles that covered the woman's face, she was not very old, no older than Lady Maria to be sure. Her hair was graying, but Christine could see a few wisps of golden curls, much like the hair Elizabeth had been described with. And her eyes, while they held great hatred, also held a deep sorrow, one that seemed to have been with this woman for many, many years.

Christine realized then, that she was standing before Elizabeth's own mother.

The woman then realized that Ophelia was not alone, and her hateful stare shifted to Christine. The woman's eyes widened as slowly, realization came upon her as to who she was seeing. Though no introduction had been made, Christine could tell that the women knew who she was.

"GET AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!" the woman bellowed, and she nearly launched herself at Christine, if a man had not appeared from behind her to hold her back.

"Giselle, stay back!" the man gruffly ordered, as he struggled with holding the woman away. "They mean us no harm."

"They come from _HIS_ place!" the woman, now identified as Giselle, barked.

"Never the less, they are our guests," the man growled, his gray brow creased with determination as he stared back at the woman in his arms. Giselle muttered a curse under her breath, before finally ceasing her struggles and shoving the man away from her.

"Fine, talk with them if you must…but they will NOT enter my house!" she shrieked, before turning on her heel and stomping away with great gusto.

The man gave an apologetic smile to Ophelia and Christine, but the sorrow in his eyes could not be hidden. "We do not receive many visitors…please, forgive us."

Christine's throat tightened as she took in the sight of the old man. Just like the woman, he too looked far older than she believed he truly was. His body looked extremely frail, and his hair was long, gray, and unkempt. Under his sorrowful gray eyes were lines upon lines of wrinkles, and Christine found herself wondering if tears could create such lines? She knew, without being told, that this was Elizabeth's father.

"We have brought you this basket, sir, and I pray that—" but the man ignored Ophelia's words as his eyes focused entirely on Christine's pale face.

"You…" he murmured, pushing his way past Ophelia. "You…you are _she_."

Christine trembled at the way he said the word; it was mixture of fascination, curiosity, and cold disdain.

"Yes, this is Lady von Desslar," Ophelia intervened, quickly stepping in front of the man. "I am taking her to visit all of Winterbourne's neighbors, and we are bringing gifts—"

"You poor thing…" the man murmured, ignoring Ophelia again, the sorrow in his eyes shining as he gazed at Christine. "What made you accept him?"

Fear began to grip Christine's heart, and she began stepping backward as the man grew closer and closer, hysteria beginning to fill his voice. "Was it your father? Was he foolish, like I was? The man may be rich, but he is a monster to be sure!" Christine let out a gasp as the man reached forward and grabbed one of her hands. "You must flee, flee before he murders you too!"

"Release her ladyship!" the young guard ordered as gruffly as he could, before grabbing hold of the old man's hands and twisting his wrist, until he cried out in pain and released Christine's arm.

Ophelia could see this was a horrible idea, and gripped Christine's shoulder. "Come, my dear, its time we leave."

But Christine, while still trembling from the old man's sudden actions, knew that the reason he spoke such horrible things was because he was a parent, suffering over the loss of his only child. "Sir…I…I only know a little about your loss—"

"You know about Elizabeth!?" the man gasped, staring at Christine with wide, tear-filled eyes. Ophelia looked especially nervous and tugged a little harder on Christine's shoulder, but Christine remained where she was and nodded her head. The man's face paled even more. "And yet…you still remain with _him_!?"

"_He_ is not to blame—"

"HE MURDERED MY DAUGHTER!"

The shout echoed off the mountains that surrounded them, and the man stared at Christine with a mixture of horror, anger, and confusion. His large, gray eyes, were filled with shock and sorrow, as if he could not believe that a person would actually stand before him and defend the Black Knight.

"My lady…" Ophelia urged, attempting once more to pull Christine away. But Christine stood her ground; she felt sorry for these people, she knew it was their grief that ruled them into saying and believing such things, but she knew, deep in heart, that Sir Erik was innocent of these crimes. She only wished that she could prove it to them…

"Did you see Sir Erik do this horrible thing?" Christine gently asked, although she held her chin high as she spoke. Ophelia stared at her, amazed and alarmed that she would ask such a question, and in such a calm way.

The man eyed her suspiciously. "Is that why you have come? To learn the truth about my daughter?"

Christine saw no point in lying, and much to Ophelia's horror, nodded her head. "I learned, not so long ago, that your daughter, Elizabeth, was married to my husband."

"And _SHE_ should be standing where you are now!" the woman shouted, her head peeking out from the doorway of the manner. "She is the rightful mistress of Winterbourne!"

"Giselle, go back inside," the man grumbled.

"Nay, Thomas. Not while people from that hellish place stand here!" she spat, stepping back outside, and standing before the door to her home, as if she would protect it from raiders.

Thomas sighed wearily, and then turned his eyes back to Christine. "Elizabeth was our only child…she…she was our dearest joy. And…and more than anything…" he paused to take a deep breath, fighting the sorrow that filled his voice. "We wanted to see her happily, and comfortably married."

A soft gasp escaped Giselle's throat, and her hand quickly covered her mouth as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

"We…we didn't always live like this," Thomas murmured, his arms stretching out to indicate the rotting manner house. "We had a fine home, once. I was a wealthy landowner, and though my title was small, still, I was a man of noble birth. And…and I thought, because of my situation, the King would look upon me with favor, should I write to him requesting aid with finding my daughter a husband," he explained. "I wanted Elizabeth to marry well; my title was small, but not the dowry that she possessed to whomever I chose to be her husband. I did not think that the King would find me a baron to marry her, yet imagine my surprise when but a few weeks later, I received a letter, telling me that Sir Erik, the son of Lord Edwin von Desslar, was seeking a bride."

Thomas paused once more and looked at the ground, before continuing with his story. "I knew that Sir Erik was born out of wedlock. Such a match would be most scandalous; but then I also knew that Sir Erik was the King's favorite knight, much like his father before him. And I knew that the King viewed Sir Erik as the legitimate heir to Winterbourne Castle, and also saw him as a man of noble blood. I won't deny that I had my reservations…but…the King spoke so highly of him, and if truth be told, he was practically thrusting Sir Erik upon me; what else could I do but say yes?" Another gasp escaped Giselle, and she turned her head away, as soft sobbing echoed from the manner doorway. "I knew…I knew that the man was very wealthy, and Elizabeth would never want for anything else. She would have every comfort imaginable, and be the mistress of a great, noble estate. And of course, with Sir Erik being so favored by the King, she would also be exposed to that favor. Despite my initial misgivings, I pushed them aside, and resigned myself to seeing the match as nothing less than perfect."

Thomas turned away then, and silently walked over to where Giselle stood. "I had only met Lord Edwin once, despite being a close neighbor, and I had never met his son. I had heard many things about him though, things that could make one's blood turn to ice." Giselle nodded her head to her husband's words, and gratefully accepted the invitation of his open arms. "Two weeks before the wedding, I met him, by myself. I was…taken aback…when I first saw him," he trembled. "I had heard about the mask, but…I had never…" he shook his head and ran a soothing hand up and down his wife's spine. "I found myself worrying once more about my daughter, marrying such a man. But…once more, I reminded myself how highly the King recommended him, and pushed aside my fears."

"We both did," Giselle murmured against her husband's chest. "Even after you told me everything about him, I insisted that he was a good man because of how the King viewed him."

Christine remained silent, although there was a part of her that wanted to scream that Erik was _still_ a good man, that he always had been, but she knew that this was not the time for such arguments, so she patiently waited for them to continue.

"Elizabeth never met Sir Erik until her wedding day," Thomas informed. "Bless her, she was such a good, obedient child. I was so worried about how she would react to him upon first seeing him…but not once did she flinch or show any signs of light-headedness."

Christine bit her tongue. It was natural for these people to think so highly of Elizabeth, they were her parents after all. But she wondered if they were aware of how "obedient" Elizabeth had been when it came to her upholding her marriage vows.

_Although she did think Sir Erik was dead_, she reminded herself. But Christine frowned at that thought. _That still does not excuse her actions for leaping into bed with Sir Raoul. A good _obedient_ wife would, at the very least, would socially mourn her husband, and not pursue a relationship with another man until after the period of mourning was over._

"And the wedding?" she asked, hoping for more details on the celebration. What Christine truly wanted to know was if Sir Raoul had attempted anything there. Anne had told her that the wedding was where Elizabeth had met Sir Raoul for the first time; she wondered if Thomas and Giselle had been aware of this.

"The wedding was beautiful," Giselle proudly proclaimed, her head lifted high as she spoke. "Elizabeth looked like a princess, and she surely was the envy of every woman present."

Ophelia forced a smile and nodded her head. "Indeed, I remember that day well."

Giselle's chin lifted even higher. "My Elizabeth was a noted beauty throughout the region; ivory skin, emerald eyes, and long, golden hair that shimmered when the sun kissed it. Men from all across the land wanted her hand in marriage; she was only sixteen when she married Sir Erik, and yet men were begging to marry her long before."

Thomas made a hushing sound, trying to soothe his wife once more, whose own green eyes were shimmering with new tears, and whose voice was growing emotional passion. A tiny spark of jealousy ignited in Christine as she imagined Elizabeth's great beauty, and how Erik responded to it upon first seeing her…but then she quickly shook the silly feeling away, and concentrated on what had just been said.

"There were other men who wished to marry her?"

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but Giselle was quicker. "Of course there were!" she stated, her eyes glaring back into Christine's. "My Elizabeth was not only beautiful, but the epitome of what a man would desire in a wife! She was obedient, charming, submissive, and intelligent—although she knew better than to challenge the mind and authority of her husband! And she could have any man she wanted—"

"Then why did you write to the King, requesting aid in finding her a husband?"

Giselle was taken aback by Christine's question, and turned to her husband for an answer, although it was obvious that Giselle knew the answer herself. Thomas sighed and looked down at his feet. "Because I was proud and over ambitious," he whispered with deep shame.

Giselle swallowed the emotional lump in her throat. "We both were, my dear. I insisted upon the match…and refused to hear otherwise."

Thomas lifted his eyes once more to Christine. "Of all the men who had asked for Elizabeth's hand…none were as rich or as favored as Sir Erik. I…I used the King's recommendation as an excuse…to cover up my own ambitious pride. And I…I…I have paid…dearly for it…" the sobs welled up in his throat and were finally released, his wife clutching him tightly as he let out his grief.

Christine glanced at Ophelia, whose eyes held pity for the weeping couple, but who also shared Christine's suspicion about the events that happened after the wedding. "I was there," Ophelia murmured, after Thomas and Giselle's sobs had died down. "I remember the wedding, and I remember the wedding feast held that evening," she softly prodded. "Sir Erik had to leave for battle the next day..."

Thomas nodded his head after turning his face away to blow his nose. "Yes, so I had been told several days prior to the wedding. I even suggested waiting till after he had returned, to marry Elizabeth, but he wouldn't hear any of it."

There was a slight hint of venom in his voice as he spoke, and Christine felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"He wanted to lay his filthy hands on my beautiful child then and there!" Giselle hissed, and if Ophelia had not stepped forward to speak, Christine would have told the woman what she truly thought of her oh so "perfect" daughter.

"Truly? I thought Sir Erik insisted upon the marriage so if anything happened to him while he was away at war, Elizabeth would not be left penniless?"

Thomas and Giselle paled at Ophelia's words, and immediately began muttering things under their breath. It was amazing; only a few seconds ago they were chastising themselves for insisting upon the marriage, admitting that the whole purpose had been for Elizabeth to catch a wealthy husband…and yet now, once more, they were turning to excuses to cover-up their apparent greed. There hatred for Sir Erik was so blind, they couldn't stop to even see a shred of reasoning.

"I insisted that Elizabeth remain at home, until Sir Erik returned," Thomas grumbled, his eyes not meeting Ophelia's, and avoiding her question altogether. "But as I said, she was always a dutiful girl, and visited Winterbourne often, determined to make herself familiar with the castle and its servants."

Christine had a feeling that Elizabeth's parents pushed her into the role as well, thrilled by the idea of their daughter being a mistress of a grand estate. Perhaps Elizabeth wasn't as guilty as she had believed? Yes, her parents were filled with grief over the loss of their daughter, but it was obvious that they had pushed her into her marriage, and the role that would come from such a marriage. Perhaps Elizabeth's betrayal had not been as cold-hearted as Christine had assumed? Perhaps she truly was a victim, both of her parent's greed and of Sir Raoul's seduction?

"She came home one day…breathless…upset…" Thomas murmured, his eyes glazing over as if he were looking at the memory itself. "I remember her cheeks looking puffy and red…and the skin under her eyes was swollen…"

"No more, Thomas! I do not wish to hear anymore!" Giselle begged, clutching at her husband's shirt collar, but the old man continued, his eyes looking beyond Christine's shoulder, into the misty horizon.

"I asked her what was wrong…I…I knew she had gone to Winterbourne that morning…but…but she didn't say anything, she just rushed past me, into the house…and shut the door," he swallowed, his throat going dry as he told his story. "I let her be…I…I thought she would tell me when she was ready…"

"Thomas, please!" Giselle moaned, her hands covering her ears as hot, painful tears, dripped down her face.

"I didn't go to her room…until…until it was time for dinner…"

"NO MORE!" Giselle shouted, and without warning, gave her husband a hard smack across the face. Both Christine and Ophelia jumped from the gesture, and Thomas staggered backwards from the hard slap. "Thomas…please…" Giselle sobbed, her arms going around her husband's neck as she sobbed against his chest. "I beg you…please…don't go on…"

But he had to go on! Christine needed to know, what had become of Elizabeth? "Did she run away?" Christine asked, her own eyes wide with desperation. "Was she still there when you went to her room? Had something happened to her? What?! Please—"

"GO AWAY AND LEAVE US BE!" Giselle shouted, her despair turning to anger, and she reached out and shoved Christine away with all her might, causing the young woman to stumble backwards herself. "Get off our land! Get away from our house! AND STAY AWAY!"

Ophelia stepped forward, hoping to calm the old woman down, but she turned her vengeful stare upon her as well. "Take your basket with you! I don't want ANYTHING that comes from that cursed place! Damn you, and damn your master!"

"But what happened after Elizabeth returned home!?" Christine asked, her voice filled with desperation; she needed at least some answers to all the questions that were pounding against her.

"ENOUGH!" Giselle spat, and she grabbed hold of her husband's arm and attempted to push Thomas inside the house.

Christine said the only thing that she could think of to stop them. "What about Sir Raoul!?"

Both Thomas and Giselle froze.

Silence fell across the small space where they all stood; not even a breeze or the song of a bird could be heard. Slowly, Thomas turned, his eyes wide and his face pale, as he met Christine's desperate, but steady gaze.

"Sir Raoul?" he whispered. "Sir Raoul de Chagny?"

Christine nodded her head, her complete focus on Elizabeth's father. "I met him, he told me he knew Elizabeth, and I believe…I believe he had feelings for her—"

"Sir Raoul asked for Elizabeth's hand on the day of her wedding," Thomas whispered. "Even after the ceremony had been conducted, he begged me to insist upon seeing the marriage annulled so that he could marry her."

Christine was taken aback from this news. Both Anne and Ophelia had told her that Sir Raoul had been at the wedding, but neither of them had been aware of his affections for Elizabeth. And yet, she did not doubt Thomas' revelation that Sir Raoul, even after the priest had married Elizabeth and Erik, remained steadfast in his determination to have Elizabeth for himself.

"Did…did Elizabeth ever talk about Sir Raoul?" Christine gently asked.

Thomas looked at her with a mixture of grief and amazement. And then, in a soft voice, one that could barely be heard, he said, "she…she…she asked me to stop the wedding. She…she wanted to marry Sir Raoul."

It wasn't seduction, it wasn't rape; it was passionate desperation that drove Elizabeth to Sir Raoul's arms when he found her at the castle. They had not met until the day of her wedding, but a simple meeting was all it took; Sir Raoul, a man who was not nearly as wealthy or praised by the King as Sir Erik, had fallen in love with Elizabeth…and for those very reasons, had been denied to have her as his bride. Of course, imagine the huge scandal! The bride of the Black Knight, a meek and obedient beauty, wishing to marry a man who was not her intended! How would Sir Erik have responded? Even though it was simply a marriage of connivance, it would still be a wound to a man's pride. In the end, Elizabeth's father did not wish to cause such scandal, bring dishonor to his own name and risk angering the Black Knight, not to mention be stuck with a "less than perfect" son-in-law, as he obviously saw it. Elizabeth, who had been raised to do the right thing, to be a dutiful, obedient, submissive girl, went on with her marriage, even though it was clear now that she didn't wish it. And when Sir Raoul returned with his lie of Sir Erik's death…she rebelled for the first time.

"Sir Raoul, in my eyes, was not good enough for my daughter. His estate was nowhere near as rich or vast as Sir Erik's…and Sir Raoul did not hold the King's favor the way Sir Erik did. What else could I do? It would have been treason to go against the King's wishes!" Thomas explained, although his eyes were flying from Christine's face to all the faces around him. "I had a duty to uphold! My honor would be disgraced, as would the name of my family! I told her to stay away from Sir Raoul, I told her she had a responsibility to uphold to our family!" his voice was shaking then, and his gaze caught the sad one of his wife's. "I…I'm s-sorry Giselle…I…I…I thought…I thought she…I thought she…she would listen. She…she always had, before…"

Giselle said nothing; she only buried her face in her hands and began crying all over again. In that moment, Christine knew the truth.

"When you went to her room, Elizabeth told you everything…didn't she?" Christine softly murmured.

Thomas nodded his head. "She…she always was a dutiful girl, e-even after…" he stopped himself from going on, and bit down on the knuckles of his fist.

Now she knew. While it had not been vocally confirmed, Christine knew that Elizabeth's parents were aware of her brief and torrid relationship with Sir Raoul. They spoke highly of her because they didn't want to think of her as someone who could do wrong, and they praised her beauty to such a degree, as if to say that it was the reason why Sir Raoul could not stop himself.

But there was still the question about the Black Knight…

"A servant told me that when Sir Erik returned from battle, he learned about Elizabeth and Sir Raoul," Christine explained.

"Aye," Thomas muttered with disgust. "He came charging up on his black steed, dressed in his armor, his sword drawn, as if prepared to do battle then and there! I told him that we thought him dead! I explained to him that it wasn't Elizabeth's fault, that she was an innocent in all this, that she had been seduced, that she would never disobey his order, that she would always be loyal…" he stopped himself and balled his fists as his gray eyes met Christine's in a ferocious stare. "But he wouldn't listen. He was determined to annul the marriage, and he DEMANDED that Elizabeth come to him, right then and there! DEMANDED! In _my_ home!"

"Unholy bastard!" Giselle cursed under her breath.

"He stormed into our house, without even letting us go to Elizabeth's room to fetch her—"

"She was still there?" Christine had always assumed that Elizabeth had run away long before Sir Erik's return, that Sir Raoul would have come looking for her, but discover that she was already gone. Yet the handsome knight had not returned for her, it seemed…and she had remained with her family…perhaps hoping and praying that she could avoid the fate that was destined for her…

"She _was_," Giselle hissed. "But when Sir Erik burst into her room, she was gone."

"As if she had disappeared…" Christine whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Sir Erik turned our home inside out, destroying precious heirlooms, smashing windows, overturning furniture, demanding the whole time that we reveal her. But we couldn't reveal her…we did not know where she had gone!"

"Somehow, she escaped the wrath of that monster," Giselle spat with great disdain. "She must have seen him coming down the road from her bedroom window, and found some way to escape."

Ophelia, who had been standing and listening to this whole revelation with absolute shock, finally spoke. "You mean…you do not know what became of her? She never returned?"

"Of course we know what became of her!" Giselle shouted. "She was killed by that monster!"

"But how do you know that?" Christine asked, fire fueling her veins as she stared back at the old woman. "Did she come back? You have not said anything to indicate that she did! Where is your proof!?" How dare they accuse her husband of doing such a thing!

"I don't need proof," Thomas growled. "Sir Erik destroyed me! He wrote to the King, and being the King's favorite knight, took everything I had and left me penniless!"

Silence fell once more. Christine paled, and she glanced at Ophelia, but Ophelia, who also looked shocked, did not seem to be as surprised as she was.

"Your dear husband, _milady_," Thomas snarled, "had the King seize my land, my wealth, even my titles! All of my servants abandoned me! We are paupers, my wife and I! As if the blow to losing my only child wasn't bad enough, he had to extract his revenge upon my family!"

"Lady von Desslar…" Ophelia murmured, clutching at Christine's hand. "I think it is best that we leave…"

"Yes, please do!" Giselle growled. "Your husband has done enough to us…and now, you come here, opening old wounds and causing us even more pain!"

Christine said nothing; she was frozen to the core. She did not believe that Sir Erik had murdered Elizabeth, at least not with his own bare hands. The girl had disappeared, most likely out of fear of what the Black Knight would do to her…and after everything that Elizabeth's parents had revealed…she could not blame the girl for being afraid.

Elizabeth's parents were greedy, but no more so than most noble families. The crime they were guilty of was loving their daughter to the point that they wanted her to have what they believed was best for her. Yet sadly, that belief led to a whole web of deceit and anguish. Elizabeth wanted to be with Sir Raoul. Sir Raoul obviously wanted Elizabeth, but perhaps Christine had been wrong with thinking that the handsome knight loved the golden beauty. Maybe it wasn't love that drove him to seek vengeance upon Sir Erik, but rather, obsession. Perhaps it was Elizabeth's obedience and loyalty to her family that upset Sir Raoul and caused him to blame Sir Erik?

A jolt along the road woke Christine from her thoughts. She realized then that she was back in the wagon with Ophelia.

"Christine? Are you alright?" Ophelia was biting her lip and her eyes were filled with worry. "I've been talking to you, but you haven't responded to a word I've said."

"I'm sorry," Christine apologized. "I…I was just…"

"I know," Ophelia murmured. "I shouldn't have brought you, it was foolish of me—"

"Nay," Christine interrupted. "I asked you to take me. I needed to learn answers about her."

Ophelia frowned. "Did you? Did you truly learn anything that you did not already suspect or know in your heart?"

Christine lifted her chin. "I always believed Sir Erik was innocent; that he did not murder Elizabeth. But her own parents have confirmed that belief; she disappeared, she ran away."

Ophelia shook her head. "But what happened to her? Sir Erik may not have laid a hand on Elizabeth, but are her parents completely wrong in saying that he killed her?"

Christine stared at Ophelia in shock from her words. "Forgive me," Ophelia murmured. "I…I do not mean to speak evil against Bernard's friend and master, but think about it! Sir Erik destroyed their home! He destroyed their lives! He had the King take away everything that belonged to them, and he _did_ drive Elizabeth away. We don't know what's become of her, whether she's living or not, but as far as her family are concerned, she is dead, for she has been missing for years, now."

A shiver coursed through Christine's body. She could not deny what Ophelia was saying, and what frightened her was that there was some truth in the woman's words. According to her parents, Elizabeth had been with them until the day Sir Erik returned from battle. They could be lying, yes, but…she remembered the pain and anger she saw in their eyes; they would not lie about something as precious as their own daughter. And while Erik was hurt by everything that had happened…what he did was wrong. Christine could not deny that, no matter how hard she tried to excuse his actions with Thomas and Giselle's greed, or Elizabeth's betrayal. Nay…Erik had done them wrong.

But he was also in pain. He had been betrayed by a girl he had barely known, but whom he had trusted enough to become his wife. Sir Raoul, who had been his ally in battle, and who may even have been a close friend, but who left him for dead on the battlefield, had betrayed him. And there was more pain; Christine could see it in those mysterious golden eyes, pain that led to destructive decisions.

"I have done them wrong, too," Christine whispered. "Just as the woman said, I reopened old, painful wounds. I have forced them to relive that horrible incident all over again."

"We did not know how it would be," Ophelia whispered back. "But…we do know that Elizabeth's disappearance came about of her own accord, in a sense. And we know that her family was aware of her affair with Sir Raoul."

Christine's head suddenly shot up, her eyes wide and her face paling as a sudden realization washed over her. She turned and grasped Ophelia's hands, her voice low so that the guard who drove the horses could not hear. "You were at the wedding, you said you remember it," Christine hissed.

Ophelia looked confused. "Aye, but it was long ago—"

"How long?" Christine demanded.

Ophelia looked even more confused. "Couldn't have been more than…three, four years ago?"

Christine's grip never ceased as she squeezed her friend's hands even tighter. "The children…were all the children present at the wedding?"

Ophelia's brow furrowed. "They were there, yes. I remember Anne standing with them and trying to keep them quiet during the ceremony—"

"How many of them!?"

Ophelia stared at her friend. "What?"

Christine's voice was so low, Ophelia had to lean in to hear her. "How many of the children were there?"

Ophelia's brow was creased with confusion…and then slowly, realization dawned on her, and her own face paled. "Jacob, Helena, and Charles…"

"The twins…" Christine whispered, nodding her head as she murmured the next words. "Sarah and Sabrina…they are Elizabeth's children."


	32. Avenging Angel

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hooray for May! It's one of my "not-so-busy" months, which means I hope to get both of my stories updated several times. Anyway, here's the next installment to "Tapestry", and while it is a slightly "shorter" chapter (when compared to other chapters) it still has some excitement! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Summary:** More about Sir Erik's past is revealed, as well as where he rode off to...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Avenging Angel_**

_"Elizabeth Continey? I am not familiar with the family…"_

"_She is the daughter and only child of Lord Thomas Continey, a nobleman who lives not far from here," Erik explained. "Despite the close distance between our two homes, I have never made an effort to introduce myself to him, so it came as quite a surprise that the King informed me of Lord Continey's interest in offering his daughter to me."_

_Raoul scowled just slightly at this news. "No doubt he is power hungry," he grumbled. "Even if he is a noble, as his majesty tells you, he must not be a very wealthy one. And if he has no other children, especially no sons, then he is most likely desperate to marry his daughter off to the first nobleman that will have her."_

_Erik considered Raoul's words. "Most likely, yes," he softly growled._

_Raoul inwardly muttered a curse, before looking up at his friend. "You know what I mean, Erik. I was not referring to your—"_

"_Do not worry about it," Erik grumbled. "You spoke the truth, actually. You think I don't realize how desperate a man such as Continey must be, in order to give his only child to me?" Erik was still finding it hard to believe that the King had so quickly found for him a bride, and that the man, upon receiving Sir Erik's letter, was all too willing to accept the proposal on his daughter's behalf. Surely this man, who lived so close, knew of the Black Knight's reputation? Erik thought surely the search for a bride would be a lost cause…and yet, here he was, standing on the roof of his castle, gazing out over the sea, planning his upcoming wedding._

_Raoul was the first person to receive the news that Erik was going to marry within the next fortnight. The handsome knight could not believe that Erik was actually going to take his advice and get a wife! Ever since the stormy night that little Charles had arrived on Sir Erik's doorstep, Raoul had been urging his friend to take a wife. After all, Erik had three children, and he was often away at war, but the main reason Raoul felt it was important for Sir Erik to marry was so that Erik's grief over losing Beatrice would finally disappear. Or at least that this friend would forget about her…_

"_I just want you to be careful," Raoul murmured, as he to tried to fix his gaze on the rolling waves of the vast sea before them. "There are many beautiful, obedient girls who will do whatever their father tells them to do…including snatching up a rich husband and using her charms to manipulate him so that her father can grow in power," Raoul muttered under his breath, although there was a hint of jealousy in his voice. "No doubt Continey knows about your connections to the King…"_

_Erik turned his eyes to Raoul, his visible eyebrow lifting in question. "Were you not the one who pushed me into considering marriage?"_

_Raoul's face turned bright red. "Aye, but I did not mean for you to marry the first woman whose father's sends a request to the King—"_

"_Trust me, my friend," Erik grumbled, his gaze returning once more to the horizon. "I have considered everything you have said. In fact, I recently met with Continey, and even though I could tell he was…surprised…by my appearance, he still insisted on seeing the marriage carried out."_

"_And the girl?" Raoul asked. "Have you met this…Elizabeth?"_

"_Nay," Erik muttered. "Which is probably for the best. In fact, her father agreed with me that she and I would meet for the first time on the day of our wedding."_

_Raoul's eyes widened in shock at Erik's revelation. "Do you think that's wise? It sounds to me as if they are plotting—"_

"_You are thinking too much like a soldier about all this," Erik interrupted, before turning and placing a strong hand on Raoul's shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, truly, but I think I can manage my wedding and all that will happen beyond it. No doubt you are right, that Continey is only insisting upon the marriage so that he and his family will climb the social ladder, be closer to the King, and boast about having a wealthy son-in-law. But honestly, Raoul…what other choice do I have?"_

_Raoul's brow furrowed with confusion. "I don't understand—"_

"_You said so yourself; only a desperate man would marry his only daughter to a creature like myself. I know that may not have been what you meant, but the point of the matter is that it is true. We can not all be handsome, like yourself."_

_There was hint of bitterness in Erik's voice, but he quickly pushed it aside. He had never been a man who cared about his looks; even before he wore his mask, he was not regarded by anyone as handsome. But since he had to put on the mask his life had changed completely, in truth, it had gone to hell. _

_Raoul's face reddened at Erik's words. "But we can not all be wealthy and beloved by the King, like yourself." Erik did not miss the bitterness in Raoul's voice as he said these words. Raoul had always been a good, loyal friend, but even when they were boys, Raoul had envied Erik. There was nothing Erik could do about that; even if Raoul gained a fortune far greater than his own, he would still be envious, for the King held Erik in such high esteem, as if he looked upon Erik as his own son. Indeed, the situation between the two of them was ironic: Raoul had the looks, but lacked the fortune, whereas Erik had the opposite. _

"_Forgive me," Raoul murmured, looking down at his feet, before lifting his gaze once more to the horizon. "I am merely envious of what you have…and believe it or not, I am not speaking of your fortune or connections to the King."_

_Erik's brow furrowed at these words and he turned his gaze to his friend, unsure exactly of what Raoul meant. _

"_I remember the day you told me about Beatrice, after your first meeting. I had never seen you look that way before; it was as if your face, your eyes, everything about you…was glowing. The passion in which you described her beauty and spoke her name…I have been with many women, Erik, but…I have never met a woman who has inspired such passion in me the way it did in you. I couldn't understand this strange happiness that filled you, the need to rush home after a hard battle, the need to be at home when there were so many adventures to be had away from it! And then Jacob was born…and once more, you mystified me," he let out a long sigh and leaned his hands on the stone rail of the castle roof. "I am growing tired of my 'bachelor ways', Erik. I envy that you will marry and perhaps have even more children. I envy that you will have someone to greet you when you journey home from a far away battle, someone who will warm your bed at night, and fill your thoughts during the day—"_

"_It will not be like that," Erik growled, his voice cold and harsh. "Perhaps for you, my friend, but not for me."_

_Raoul's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"_

_With a heavy sigh, Erik turned his back on the horizon and folded his powerful arms across his chest. "My children need a mother, in fact, I have no intentions on having any more children. I already have my heir, the King has already recognized Jacob as such, and God forbid, should anything happen to him, Charles will take his place, as I'm sure the King will approve as well."_

_Erik began moving away from the roof's balcony, to the tower that they had climbed. Raoul was still confused, and quickly followed. "Wait, you are saying that you have no intention on…on…well, on carrying out your 'husbandly duties' with Continey's daughter?"_

"_There is no need," Erik growled as he reached the tower steps and began to descend them. "I told you, I don't intend on having anymore children, therefore there is no need for Elizabeth and I to share a bed. In fact, I am having the servants prepare for her a bedchamber in the southern tower, the one that overlooks the courtyard…and that is far away from me."_

"_But Erik…you can not be serious!" Raoul was in utter shock. Yes, the children needed a mother, but Erik needed a wife, a wife to do all the things that Erik was refusing to acknowledge. When Raoul had declared that he was tired of his "bachelor ways" he meant it; he longed to take a wife and have a family of his own, to experience love and passion, to have something to live for at the end of each battle. What was wrong with Erik? He wanted his friend to be cautious with who he chose to marry, but he did not think his friend would live the rest of his life like a monk!_

"_I am serious," Erik grumbled, and he did not stop moving until he reached the bottom of the tower steps. He then turned to the handsome knight, and Raoul was amazed that he saw genuine sadness in the fierce, golden eyes, of his friend. "I thought I knew what love was like…I thought I was in love and that person loved me in return. But you, as well as I, know that she did not love me, at least…not near the end."_

"_Erik—"_

"_Elizabeth will make a decent mother for the children, and she will be decent and obedient when I present her to the King. You were right, Raoul; I do need a wife, but just not in the way you think."_

"_But Erik—"_

"_I will not trust my heart to another woman, never again," Erik growled. "I have no intention of doing that with Elizabeth. This is strictly a marriage of convenience, both for myself, and for her family. And let that be the end of the matter." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away. _

_Love, as he had learned long ago, was a curse, one that haunted a man even when his enemies were dead. Never; never would he trust a woman with anything, especially his heart…_

* * *

The entire castle seemed to be shaking from the hard pounding on the castle door. It was barely dawn, and Baron de Coleville had been shaken from his sleep by the thunderous sound. "What in God's name…?" he stumbled from the bed towards the window, in a vain attempt to see what was causing the noise, but the glass was dirty and little could be seen.

And the pounding was growing worse and worse.

"Good God, Pierre!" Lady Maria shrieked, sitting up straight in bed, her eyes wide with fear and panic as the thunderous noise grew stronger and louder. "What is it? Invaders? Are we to be murdered in our beds!?"

"Quiet!" Pierre hissed, grabbing a robe and throwing it over his nightgown as he stumbled into the hallway outside the bedchamber.

"Where are you going!?" Lady Maria hissed. "You are NOT going down there! Send the guards! Or at least send the servants—"

"_What_ servants shall I send, my dear?" the baron grumbled. There were only two servants left in the entire castle; all the rest had been released so that Baron de Coleville could pay off his debts.

"It's those bloody creditors!" Lady Maria shrieked, pulling the blankets up to her chin. "No doubt you angered them, _again_, and they have now come back to extract their revenge upon us!" she looked ready to faint. "Oh God in heaven, what if they choose to steal me away to satisfy your debts?"

Baron de Coleville simply rolled his eyes at this notion. As always, his wife was trying to make the situation all about herself, and throw all of the blame upon him, when she and his children were the ones spending what little money they had on unneeded extravagances. Without another word, he walked away from the bedroom, and with uneasy steps, began to approach the door that looked as if it were about to fall from its hinges at any moment.

And then, a roar could be heard from outside the door, a roar that sent chills down the baron's spine. "DE COLEVILLE!"

Pierre stood frozen for a good long moment, and it wasn't until the early morning air was filled with another roar of his name, that he finally launched himself upon the door. The intruder was going to get in no matter what, that was clear; better that he grant access to his uninvited guest, than cause further anger.

Lady Maria now stood in the hallway, looking down from the balcony above into the great hall, her eyes straining through the shadows to see who had come at this early hour. She held her breath as Pierre pulled the door open, squinting to see the giant figure that stood on the other side. "Who the devil is it, Pierre?"

Sir Erik burst into the room, his golden eyes blazing as he locked eyes with Pierre, before lifting them to Lady Maria. "The devil himself, madam."

Lady Maria nearly screamed from the shock of seeing the dark giant tower over her husband as he pushed his way into the great hall. The Black Knight wasn't alone; close behind his thunderous footsteps came his men-at-arms, each looking cold and stern, like their master. Sir Erik gave one simple nod to his men, and immediately, his men-at-arms spread out around the great hall, some traveling to different rooms, several climbing the stairs where Lady Maria stood. "W-w-w-what is going on!?" she shrieked in hysteria, as the men began barging into the castle's many rooms, searching diligently for something unknown. "Pierre, do something!"

Sir Erik turned his fierce gaze upon the trembling baron, as if daring the man to challenge him. Pierre de Coleville merely shrank back into the corner he was already huddling in, his eyes unable to meet those of Sir Erik's.

"Nothing of value in this room, my lord, at least nothing that can be considered of great value now," reported one of his men.

"Keep searching," Sir Erik growled, his eyes still locked on de Coleville's trembling form.

Lady Maria could not stand it any longer. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS!?" she screamed, rushing down the steps and trying to stand tall, despite the way her body trembled from her hysteria.

Erik closed his eyes momentarily, before finally turning his head and locking eyes with those of de Coleville's spoiled wife. "The meaning, madam, is compensation," Erik simply said, although his voice was so deep, the very stones at their feet seemed to quake.

"C-c-c-c-compensation?" Pierre finally murmured, glancing up very carefully at the masked man before him.

"Aye," Erik growled, his eyes turning once more to de Coleville. "Compensation for years of cruelty and abuse."

Pierre looked confused, and he did not like the way Sir Erik glared at him as he spoke. "C-cruelty and a-a-abuse?" he stuttered. "B-but…I…I…I did n-not know of you then, my lord. I…w-what did I…what h-have I done?"

Without warning, Erik lashed out and grabbed the stunned and frightened baron by the throat and hoisted him up off the ground until his feet were dangling in the air and he was struggling to breathe like a fish out of water. "I SHOULD KILL YOU NOW, FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!" Erik roared, shaking de Coleville as if he were a rag doll. "I SHOULD TAKE MY SWORD AND RUN YOU THROUGH!"

Lady Maria screamed, crying out for help, momentarily forgetting that they no longer had guards. "D-d-d-don't kill him!" she gasped, her hands tightly folded as if in prayer, and beating against her breast. "P-please, I…I beg of you! If Pierre d-d-dies…I…I…what will _I_ do? T-the money…everything…it will all be gone!"

Erik's lip curled into a snarl as he listened to the selfish pleas of de Coleville's wife. The love she had for her husband only extended to her own comfort and livelihood. With disgust, Erik released the baron, who collapsed to the ground, coughing and sputtering as air filled his lungs once more. "'Tis not _I_ who you have done wrong by," Erik growled, answering the man's previous question. "The compensation that I seek is not for myself, but for another. Someone dear to me, someone who did not have the strength or the power to defend herself, let alone stand up for the injustice you and your family thrust upon her!"

Pierre shrank away, knowing exactly whom the Black Knight was referring to. "I…I…she w-was not m-m-my r-responsibility—"

"YOU ARE THE MASTER OF THIS CASTLE!" Erik roared, his masked face mere inches away from the trembling baron. "Everything that goes on here is YOUR business, and YOUR responsibility, including how your vile family treats their servants!"

Lady Maria seemed to have heard that last bit, and the hysteria that had been coursing through her ever since Sir Erik and his men had barged into her home, gave way to anger. "Vile!?" she gasped, her ice blue eyes glaring at the back of the Black Knight. "How dare you speak that way to my husband! To me! I demand an apology!"

Pierre cringed at his wife's words and Erik snarled slightly, but said nothing. He always knew that de Coleville was a coward; the man couldn't even stand up for himself in the presence of his own wife. "I do not think you are in a position to demand apologies, madam," Erik growled, slowly turning his eyes upon the spoiled woman.

Lady Maria's face paled, but stood her ground, squaring her shoulders and glaring right back at him. "When first I saw you, I thought you had finally come to your senses, and were here at last to claim my daughter for your bride, as she rightfully is!"

Erik growled at the woman, and she took a trembling step back. "If my very salvation depended upon my marrying your daughter, my release from an eternity of torment by the fires of hell…I would gladly choose hell. For trust me, madam, hell would feel like heaven, compared to a lifetime with Carlotta."

Lady Maria gasped in shock at the insult Sir Erik had just thrown at her. "I…I…how dare you—"

"I have never struck a woman, madam," Erik growled. "Don't be the first."

"My lord!" Erik lifted his eyes to the balcony that overlooked the great hall. Several of his men-at-arms held large trunks in their hands, each filled with various items of value. "We found these jewels in Lady de Coleville's chamber, and these gowns in that of her daughter's."

"Bring them down and load them in the wagon," Sir Erik ordered. "They are a start, at the very least."

Once she got over her initial shock, Lady Maria launched herself at the men who were descending the steps, screaming at them to release her possessions, but Erik grabbed the woman by her arms and pushed her away. "If you do not hold your wife back and keep her silent, de Coleville, I will be forced to!" Erik warned, before pushing the angry woman into Pierre's arms.

"THIEF!" Lady Maria screamed as her husband attempted to hold her back. "VILLAIN! MONSTER! THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! I SHOULD RIP THAT MASK OFF YOUR FACE AND EXPOSE YOU FOR WHAT YOU TRULY ARE!"

Everyone seemed to freeze at Lady de Coleville's angered words, and all of Sir Erik's men were looking at him to see how he would respond. They all knew about their master's face, and they all knew it was a subject _never_ to be discussed. Erik slowly turned and silently walked towards the woman, whose struggles lessoned the closer he got. He didn't stop moving until he was a few inches away from her, and he bent his head till it was only a breath away from her face. "Do you truly wish to see it?" he whispered, his voice cold and deadly.

Lady Maria practically flattened herself against her husband when Sir Erik approached, and she stared with wide, frightened eyes, as the Black Knight challenged her with his gaze, daring her to tell him she wanted to see his face. He would show it to her, she knew…and she had heard many terrible things about it, even stories of people dying upon seeing it, like Medusa and her victims.

"Well?" Erik asked, his hands hovering near the straps that held his mask in place.

Lady Maria didn't say a word; she fainted right there in her husband's arms.

Erik rolled his eyes at the pathetic woman, and turned away from her and her stunned husband. "Continue the search! Even if it doesn't look valuable, take it!" he looked at de Coleville, before muttering. "It's the least that my wife's former employers can offer."

Pierre lowered his wife to the ground and stepped over her, before carefully approaching the dark giant. "M-m-my lord…" he stuttered, trying to find a ounce of courage. "F-f-forgive me, please—"

"I don't think that's possible," Sir Erik growled. "You may not have been the one inflicting the abuse, but you did nothing to stop it. She was just a child, a sweet innocent who your wife and your brats found pleasure in torturing."

What could Pierre say? He remembered receiving the letter from his uncle, telling him that a man would be delivering a servant girl to work for his wife and daughter. Pierre didn't think anything of it, simply gave the letter to his wife and entrusted her to handle the situation. Pierre had never gotten involved with how his wife handled her servants; in fact he believed it was for the best not to interfere. As far as he could tell, Christine was a hard worker, and that was all he cared about. He had heard…rumors…about the way his wife and children _disciplined_ their servants…but it wasn't his business. Besides, he had more important things to concentrate on than how a servant girl was being treated…

Somehow, he didn't think this was something Sir Erik wanted to hear.

"W-w-what are you g-going to do to us, my lord?" Pierre asked, swallowing the large lump in his throat.

"Nothing that you didn't do to her," Erik simply answered, which caused a cold chill to run down de Coleville's spine.

Erik's men emptied the rooms around them, taking whatever looked to be of value from the castle and placing it in large wagon they had brought. There was very little to be found; Sir Erik knew of Baron de Coleville's debts, and could tell that much of the castle's wealth had been sold in order to compensate his creditors. Erik's eyes scanned the great hall as his men finished their work, his memory recalling the night he married Christine, and how, right before they left, she looked back inside the castle…

What was it that she was looking at? Erik's brow furrowed as he looked around the large room, trying to recall what had grasped her attention. It wasn't the friends she had just said goodbye to, no, he knew it was an object. Something large, something that also had caught his eye, something…

_The tapestry._

Erik looked up above the hall's fireplace and saw it hanging there.

It was large, old looking, and very detailed. Erik remembered gazing upon it, finding it striking and beautiful when he first saw it. The picture showed a castle on the seashore, and he remembered how much the castle reminded him of Winterbourne. The castle was surrounded by roses, and standing on the balcony, looking out over their woven kingdom, stood a knight and his lady…

Christine's song! Erik's eyes widened as he remembered the beautiful song Christine had sung a few nights ago, telling the story of a maiden in love with a knight, who everyone believed to be a ghost. The story took place in a dark castle that overlooked the sea, surrounded by fields of roses…

It was too much of a coincidence. The tapestry matched Christine's song perfectly! And didn't Christine say that it was a song that she had been told to by her father? Yes…yes, he remembered the children asking what happened next, and Christine telling them that she never heard the end of the story. And then Erik recalled, after he and Christine had made love and he held her in his arms, her telling him that the last time she saw her father, he brought her a gift, a package…

The tapestry. The way she looked longingly at it when they left the castle; it was because it had been the gift her father had given her just before he died!

"Does that belong to Christine?" Erik demanded, rounding on de Coleville so quickly, that the man nearly toppled over. "Answer my question! Does that belong to my wife!?"

Pierre was trembling by the sudden question, and couldn't find his voice. He glanced at the tapestry and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I…I…"

Erik grabbed de Coleville once more by the throat and hoisted the man up into the air. "I will ask one last time…and if you do not answer me, I will strangle you myself!"

"Y-y-yes!" Pierre gasped as he struggled against Sir Erik's powerful grip. "Y-y-yes! It b-b-b-belonged to her! H-her f-father brought it j-just b-before he died!"

"So you stole it from her," Erik growled, his grip tightening. "You took the only thing she had left of her family…"

"N-n-no!" Pierre whimpered, his face turning blue. "S-s-she w-w-was only a s-s-servant! W-w-w-what was she g-g-going to do…with a t-t-tapestry?"

Without warning, Erik released the man, however he was sure to throw de Coleville several feet away from him in the process. Pierre hit the ground with a loud thud and groaned in pain as he tried, once more, to catch his breath. "T-t-take it," he gasped, before scrambling away from Sir Erik. "T-t-take the t-tapestry a-a-and whatever else y-you want…"

"I intend to," Erik snarled, before ordering his men to remove the tapestry at once. "But don't think you're getting rid of me that easily."

Pierre shuddered at Sir Erik's cold words. "What do you want? I'll give you anything. I'll tell you anything. Please…"

Erik already had plans for de Coleville and his horrible wife, but the two people he truly wanted to see punished were sadly, not there. Erik had a feeling upon arriving that Carlotta and Philippe wouldn't be there. After all, they had "invaded" his home only a few nights ago, and the journey from Winterbourne to the de Coleville's was at least three days, and that was if one traveled fast. Philippe and Carlotta were obviously wiser than they appeared. They no doubt knew that he would be coming for them, and chose to avoid the most obvious place. Most likely, they were hiding at some nearby village, possibly Valmour. Erik had complete confidence in Bernard protecting his home and his family, but even so, he was not comfortable with being away too long.

"Answer some questions for me about your son and daughter," Erik growled. "In particular, where you believe they can be found?"

Pierre stared at the Black Knight with wide eyes. "Philippe? Carlotta?"

"Aye," Erik growled. "They came to my home but a few days ago, and attempted to intimate my wife. However, I think she proved to be a far more fearsome enemy than I could ever be." He leaned in and lowered his voice until it sounded like a deep, distant roll of thunder. "Where are they? Tell me, de Coleville…now."

"I don't know!" Pierre groaned, wrapping his arms around his head, as if shielding himself for a possible blow. "T-t-they have been gone for at least two weeks! Philippe said he…he had a rich friend who could possibly be a potential husband for Carlotta! That's all I know, I swear! I had no idea they were traveling to Winterbourne."

Erik's visible brow lifted. The man was telling the truth, and the truth bothered him more than any lie. Philippe and Carlotta were not only dangerous, but also quite devious. It was clear they had something in mind, some sort of scheme that could only lead to disaster.

"Marco!" Erik shouted, and within a few seconds, one of his men-at-arms appeared. "See to these villains," he growled, his head gesturing to the trembling baron and his fainted wife. "You know what to do."

"Aye, my lord," Marco nodded, however he looked confused as he watched his master take hold of the rolled up tapestry, and head out to the courtyard. Marco quickly followed, unsure exactly of what Sir Erik was doing. "My lord? You are leaving?"

"Aye," Erik growled, mounting his horse. "I must hurry back to Winterbourne. As soon as you deal with those two, take the wagon and hurry back to the castle, there is not a moment to lose."

Marco still looked confused, as did the rest of Erik's men who were near by and watching. "Is something amiss, my lord? Perhaps we should travel with you—"

"I will travel faster on my own, and right now, I don't wish to draw a great amount of attention to myself," he growled, which everyone knew was the end of conversation. "See to those two, then hurry back to Winterbourne. I'll see you in a few days."

And without another word, he dug his heels into the stallion's flanks, and broke down the road at a lightning pace.


	33. Chance Encounters

**Summary: **Sir Erik encounters a mysterious traveler on his way back to Winterbourne, and Christine receives more information about Sir Erik's past from a very surprising and unexpected source... (LONG chapter to make up for my "short" one from earlier)

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Chance Encounters_**

_"Erik…"_

_The voice was distant, but clear. Light and airy, yet full and husky as well. _

"_Erik…my love…"_

_It was a strange voice, one that he knew, yet one that he had not heard in ages. It was haunting, full of sorrow and pain._

"_Erik…look at me, my love, please…look at me…"_

_Erik's brow furrowed at the invading voice. The more he heard it, the more his mind came to acknowledge who was speaking to him. _

"_Erik? Why have you done this to us? You and I are one, you told me so on the night we first made love…"_

_Beatrice. She appeared, manifesting from thin air. She looked beautiful, that he could not deny; her long, fiery hair flowing down her back, her alabaster skin glistening in the moonlight, her deep blue eyes penetrating his as she gazed at him, her voluptuous body rising and falling with each breath she took. "Erik…" she murmured once more. "You told me you would love me and only me, till the end of time…"_

_He did say that once, but that was before she betrayed him, before she turned her back on him, before she rejected everything about him. The day she kissed him, gave her body to him, the day she told him that she loved him…she had lied to him. If she truly loved him as much as she had said when they first met, she would not have done what she did. _

"_Erik?"_

_He turned his head away from Beatrice when a new voice spoke, and gasped at the sight of a golden haired beauty, stepping forward, her pale face meekly looking down at the ground, her hands folded together in front of her. "Erik…" she whispered again, lifting her eyes carefully to meet his. "Why did you do it? You didn't love me; you didn't feel for me what a husband should feel for his wife…why, then? Why did you do it?"_

_Erik couldn't speak. He tried to, he opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And he felt deep shame as he gazed upon Elizabeth's pale face, tears rolling down her cheeks from her sad, green eyes._

"_He is a murderer!" _

_Erik whipped his head around as another voice filled his ears. It came from another woman, a woman with long, raven black hair, her face covered with layers of make-up, as if trying desperately to hold on to her youth and beauty that was obviously slipping away from her. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there were tearstains running down her painted cheeks. "You killed me!" she shouted, pointing an accusing finger in his face. "You came to me by night, took from me what you wanted, and then left me to die! A long, slow, agonizing death that lasted for nine months!"_

_Erik attempted to speak again, but once more, his mouth seemed to be sealed shut. He remembered her, the nameless prostitute, and Charles' mother. He had gone to Valmour, on the anniversary of Beatrice's death. His nightmares were getting worse and worse, and he was in a black mood. He needed to forget, he yearned to forget, and thought he would find it in the arms of another woman. She was the first woman he saw, a woman who was a stark contrast to Beatrice, which was all he cared about. She had been reluctant when she recognized him, but her mood quickly changed when she saw the bag of gold he was offering for her services. After their torrid encounter, Erik left her bed, disgusted and still feeling miserable. He never visited the woman again, and he never heard from her…until the night Charles was brought to his doorstep._

"_Oh Erik…" Beatrice sighed, interrupting the prostitute's angry wails. "So many lives you've destroyed, so many deaths added to your conscious. Do you think it's possible that God can even hear your prayers through all the layers of sin that cover you?"_

"_Because of you, I am dead!" the prostitute shouted._

"_Because of you, my family suffer," Elizabeth whispered._

"_Because of you, our children never knew their real mother…" Beatrice hissed in his ear. "And do you honestly think that I will allow_ her _to take my place?"_

_Erik, who had been straining to speak this whole time, finally felt a powerful breath fill his lungs, as he roared to the heavens and the ghosts that surrounded him, "LEAVE ME!"_

Erik sat straight up, gasping for breath as he stared wildly about him, not recognizing his surroundings. Without another thought, he leapt to his feet and drew Ghost Maker from its sheath, and began to swing the sword wildly about him, as if attacking an invisible enemy. "BE GONE, SPIRITS!" he roared once more. "LEAVE ME IN PEACE!"

"Hush, my lord. You will wake the dead."

Erik's eyes widened and he whirled around, his sword ready to attack whoever spoke. But it was no ghost, no specter from his past that stood near by, prepared to taunt him. Instead, it was a woman, a tall, thin woman, who was kneeling in a field, gathering herbs into a nearby basket. It was then that Erik finally realized where he was. His horse was tethered only a few feet away by a lonely tree, and he was standing beside the very road he had been traveling. On either side of the road were fields, most of which were overgrown by weeds and wildflowers. He gazed up at the sky and was greeted by the bright light of the full moon and a million twinkling stars. It was a clear night…and yet he could smell rain in the air.

"You were already fast asleep when I arrived," the woman answered his unspoken question. "For how long? I know not, although I have been here for nearly an hour."

Erik's brow furrowed at her words. How long had he been asleep? He remembered leaving his home, traveling far to the south…for what reason?

"You are lucky that I was the one who came upon you, and not some common thief," the woman murmured again. "You're far from your horse, and I noticed the lovely treasure that it was carrying on its back."

Erik whirled his head around to where his horse stood, calmly munching on the grass at its feet. The tapestry! He rushed over to his horse's side and let out a long, shaky breath, as he found that the woman had been telling the truth, the tapestry was still there.

Now he remembered everything. He had traveled to Baron de Coleville's and discovered the tapestry, _Christine's_ _tapestry_, and took it with him, leaving his men behind to finish the rest of the work. He and his men had arrived at de Coleville's castle early that morning, just before dawn. Philippe and Carlotta were nowhere to be found, and that was why he wished to leave right away, without even waiting for his men. He had traveled all day, stopping for nothing except to offer his horse a drink of cool water. He would have traveled all night, if he could he…but sleep must have overcome him, for in truth, he could not even remember stopping to rest.

"You need your strength!" the woman announced, interrupting his thoughts. "Come…I have a fire just over here, and I was simply picking a few herbs for my stew. Join me, my fellow traveler."

Erik cocked his visible brow at the woman's invitation. Who was she? She was the first person he had ever encountered who did not seem intimidated or shocked by the sight of his mask, and surely she had seen it! He eyed her suspiciously and grasped the tapestry to his chest as he warily approached the meager fire to which she spoke of, his hand still gripping the hilt of his sword.

What sort of woman traveled by herself? And in the middle of night, no less! He looked at her again, taking in her full appearance. She was not young, but she was not old, at least not the same age as Anne. Her long black hair was streaked with silver, and flowed down her back, freely. Her clothes were plain, like those of a peasant, and yet she carried herself with a confident air that he only saw in nobility. She did not seem frightened or worried, even though she was standing in the presence of a masked knight who carried a sword and who could easily snap her in two, if he so wished. Who was she?

"I hope you like rabbit," the woman murmured, as she added her herbs to the stew. He simply nodded his head and watched as she removed two wooden bowls from a burlap sack that lay near her fire. She had called him her "fellow traveler"; was she also traveling northward?

"Here," the woman whispered, pouring some of the stew into one of the bowls and passing it to him. Erik took the bowl, but did not immediately lift its fragrant broth to his lips. He knew nothing about this woman, how did he know if she could be trusted? Traveling alone at night, picking wild herbs in the middle of an abandoned field…indeed, a superstitious man would think he was dealing with a witch!

But Sir Erik did not believe in such things, however he did believe in thieves who would poison their victims to steal their belongings.

The woman noticed his apprehension and simply chuckled to herself, before bringing her own bowl of stew to her lips and drinking its contents. "It's perfectly safe, I assure you," the woman announced, taking another sip.

Erik eyed her once more, before finally lifting the bowl to his own mouth. It tasted as delicious as it smelled, and he had not realized how hungry he was until he gulped down the rest of his bowl.

The woman grinned and took the empty bowl from his hands, before filling it with more stew. "A large man like you needs all the strength he can get," she murmured, much like a mother talking to her child at supper. "Especially when you are traveling."

Erik took the newly refilled bowl and eyed her carefully. "Are you traveling?"

The woman nodded her head. "I am heading north."

They were heading in the same direction. "What lies in the north?" he asked, as he gulped down more stew.

"Family," the woman whispered with a smile. "As well as answers to many questions."

Erik's brow creased with confusion at the woman's statement. "Answers? What answers are you seeking?"

"Nothing you should worry about," the woman quickly replied. "And you, my lord? You are also traveling northward?"

"Aye," Erik answered, finishing his second bowl of stew. "Like you, I also have family there."

The woman smiled at his words. "Do you have children?"

He nodded his head. "Five, actually. Two sons and three daughters."

The woman's smile grew even more. "Children are indeed a blessing," she sighed. "I had several, but only one survived," she murmured with a hint of sadness. "My daughter, she is my greatest joy, and I am traveling to see her and my grandchildren."

Erik felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. Yes, he had to agree with her, his children were his greatest joy. Everything in his life he had done for them…or so he had told himself. He frowned slightly, knowing that some of the things he had done in the name of his children, were in truth selfish things he had done for himself. If not for Christine, he may never have realized the pain he was causing them with his constant leaving…

_Christine._

She had done so much for him. She had done so much for his children. Winterbourne was a different place now, with her there. Everyone seemed happier, the servants, his children, and…yes, even himself. He had forgotten what joy and hope and…love…felt like, until Christine came into his life.

"The journey always feels longer than it really is," the woman whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

"What?"

The woman smiled. "I can see the longing you feel for home in your eyes," she explained. "You are thinking of them, are you not? Your children…and your wife?"

Erik looked down at the tapestry that was rolled up and resting in his lap. "Yes," he whispered.

The woman nodded her head. "You must love her a great deal…"

"Yes…" Erik sucked in a breath as soon as the simple word had escaped his lips. It was the first time he had admitted out loud to anyone, even himself, that he loved Christine. And it was true…he loved her. He did not know it at the time, but he was sure that the moment he spied her in de Coleville's rose garden, he had fallen in love with her.

"Does she know of your love?"

Erik lifted his head, his golden eyes surprised by the question. "W-w-what?"

The woman smiled, her dark eyes holding a wisdom that seemed to surpass time itself. "You must tell her, and soon. The moment you see her, you must tell her of your love."

Who was this woman!? By what right did she have in telling him, no, in _assuming_ that he had not told his own wife that he loved her!? _But you haven't told her you fool, even though she passionately declared her love to you before you left. _

Erik had always been told that his gaze was fierce, and could penetrate through stone if he so wished. But right now, as he locked eyes with this mysterious woman, he felt his own gaze faltering under her own dark stare. "Once you declare your love, once you tell her, the ghosts will cease their haunting…"

Erik stared at her and felt a shiver go down his spine. "What?"

"I heard you talking in your sleep," the woman whispered. "They torment you because you feel guilt and repulsion for yourself. But her love can cleanse you of that, and only when you confess your love, will the two of you be able to vanquish all your enemies—"

Erik sprang to his feet, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, his eyes wild as he stared back at the woman. "Who are you!?" he demanded, his voice a deep growl filled with warning.

The woman remained where she was, looking perfectly calm. "I told you, I am a traveler, like yourself."

"A traveler who presumes to know much about me!" he snarled. "Did de Coleville send you? WHO SENT YOU!" he roared, drawing Ghost Maker from its sheath and glaring at the woman before him. "Answer me…"

The woman's eyes never left his, nor did she flinch when he drew his sword. "No one sent me, my lord. I am telling you the truth. I happened upon you while traveling northward."

"No woman travels alone, especially at night!"

The woman cocked a dark brow at his words. "Perhaps no woman of _noble_ birth would travel alone and at night, but I am no noblewoman. It is a long journey, where I am going, and I must travel whenever I can, including at night."

"Then why did you stop here!?" he demanded, his eyes attempting to burn through her own steady, fierce gaze, but failing miserably.

"I too, was tired, my lord. I stopped to rest my feet and have a meal, as I have not eaten since early this morning. Also, when I found you here, I did not wish to leave you alone. What if you were also hungry? I chose to stay until you awoke."

The way she explained herself, it was all so matter of fact! In fact, he could not help but feel foolish for asking his very rational questions. "Then…then how…how did you…?" he lowered his sword, his head swimming with questions.

"I know who you are, my lord," she simply answered. "Few people in this world do not know who you are. Your reputation is infamous, to say the least. After all, how many knights wear masks?" she chuckled. "As for the rest…I can read it in your eyes."

Erik's brow furrowed. "My eyes?"

"Yes," the woman whispered. "I take it that when you stare at people, they tremble and turn away, and never truly gaze into your eyes. But I didn't turn away, and I could see the regret, the pain, and love you have for your wife, all in your eyes. And as I mentioned before, I heard you talking in your sleep; you said a woman's name, in fact, you said two names, and then you awoke violently, screaming to be left in peace. What other conclusion could I draw that you are haunted by ghosts of the past?"

She made sense, he could not deny that. But there was still something dark and mysterious about her, something that still caused his spine to tingle with apprehension. "And what did you mean about...'our enemies'?"

The woman sighed and rose to her feet. "A man like yourself has many enemies, am I wrong?"

Erik said nothing; he simply shook his head in agreement. The Jackal had been his greatest enemy, and now someone was claiming to be the pirate villain, resurrected from the dead. Raoul, his once trusted friend, was now his enemy, and Philippe and Carlotta were certainly enemies of his wife…as well as his own.

The woman poured a bowl of water over her fire and began collecting her supplies. "I know your heart, my lord; I can read it in your eyes. You love her, and wish to protect her and your children at all cost," she lifted her head then to gaze back at him. "But you will do more harm than good, if you push her away."

"I am not pushing her away," Erik growled, sheathing his sword and gathering the tapestry up in his arms. "I am trying to keep her safe! I am—"

"You will place her in far more danger if you do not tell her the whole truth," the woman interrupted. The hairs on the back of Erik's neck stood on end at the woman's words. "She loves you, and will do whatever it takes to learn the truth herself. She does it not to betray your trust, but so that she can help you! Trust me, my lord, the two of you will be stronger and able to face whatever hardships lie ahead, if you are both strong in your love for one another."

Erik was speechless. He stared at the woman with a look of surprise, wariness, and question. "You speak…as if you know of such things?"

The woman gave a small smile. "I do not know of the things _you_ are experiencing…but I do know of the strength of a married couple," she whispered. "This is why I am here, actually. I came to say goodbye."

Erik lifted his visible brow at her words. "I thought you said you simply stopped here to rest?"

"I did," the woman confirmed. "I just didn't tell you that I _meant_ to stop here," the woman then made a gesture with her arm to the field on her right. "This is where my husband rests."

Erik stared at the field the woman was pointing to. "Your husband is buried here?"

"Nay," the woman shook her head. "He was not buried. His ashes were scattered across this field, as were many others."

"Others?"

The woman nodded her head. "We called it 'the field of ashes'. It was believed that because of the ashes, and the many tears that wept over the field, the plants that grew here were best throughout the countryside."

Erik's eyes didn't break away from the field. "How…how many are…were scattered here?"

"Hundreds," the woman stated. "All the servants and tenants of the Baron de Coleville."

Erik quickly turned his head back to the woman. "Baron de Coleville?! This field belongs to Pierre de Coleville?!"

But the woman shook his head. "Pierre de Coleville is the current baron, and lives a good day's journey from here. But once upon a time, the title belonged to his uncle, Baron Sebastian de Coleville," she explained.

Erik felt his jaw tighten at the woman's words. He remembered how Christine had told him about the ruthless noble to whom her parents worked for. She was sent to work for the nephew of that nobleman, but he had no idea that…that…

Was _this_ the final resting place of her mother and father?

"Sebastian de Coleville was a ruthless man," the woman sighed. "My husband was a poor tenant who worked the land until the day he died. The Baron treated him, and all the other tenants, like dogs, demanding 25 percent of all the crops that were gathered, and only accepting the very best," she spoke the words with such venom, and Erik could not help but agree. "There were droughts and famines, but de Coleville did not care. He threatened to beat the children of his tenants should they not do the work he demanded…"

Erik's fists clenched tightly as he imagined Christine's parents, working like dogs in the fields in order to keep this villain from touching their daughter.

"My poor husband…" the woman whispered, a tear running down her cheek. "He died out there, in the fields; his poor heart could not take it any longer. Within a few days, his ashes were scattered across the field, and both my daughter and I were forced to move away."

Erik felt the woman's sorrow, and reached out to touch her thin shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered, truly meaning it.

The woman smiled and brushed away the tears that were in her eyes. "Thank you…but despite my sad tale, I do not once regret a single day. My husband told me, every day, that he loved me, and I did the same for him. And after he died? I still tell him that I love him…and at night, in my dreams, I still hear him tell me. And that, my lord, is why it is important that you tell her."

Erik felt his chest swell with emotion at the woman's words. Christine had told him that she loved him, and in truth, he longed to hear her tell him again. As for himself, he was afraid to open himself as he had done, once before. He had tasted betrayal and pain; all at the hands of someone he believed loved him, and whom he loved. But Christine…she was different! Christine, his sweet, beautiful, innocent, wise, and strong Christine…God, how he loved her! He loved her!

But would she turn away from him, if he told her about his past? Would she revile his touch, if she knew about the horrible things he had done? Would she scream and look upon him with fear and disgust…if she saw his face? These were all fears that he had, fears and reasons that kept him from opening his heart completely to her, that kept him from revealing everything to her. He told her it was because he wanted to her to keep her innocence, to stay sweet and pure, but he knew that was only an excuse; the truth was because he did not think he could bear having his heart broken and his hopes smashed once more.

But then a tiny voice, one deep inside, seemed to whisper, despite all the questions that clouded his head…what if she didn't turn away from him? What if…he was misjudging her? Despite her small size, she was proving to be stronger than anyone he knew. She was loyal, honest, and she loved him…she _loved_ him! What if it was possible, that even after revealing to her everything about him, and standing before her, all his secrets bare for the world to see…that she still loved him?

He looked down at the tapestry he held in his arms, the treasured gift Christine's father had given her just before he died. He remembered the beautiful song she had sung to his children, about the maiden seeking her beloved knight, and discovering that the horrible ghost, who everyone feared, was in truth, the same as her beloved. The maiden did not run away in fear, but stayed. She declared her love to the ghost, and through her love, the ghost became flesh. Sadly, Christine's love would not restore his face…but…perhaps her love would not lessen, if she saw it?

_I am her ghost, and she is my maiden. And she seems determined to free me from the confines of my melancholy, to slay the ghosts of my past, and to love me till the end of time._ The woman was right; he had to tell her, he had to take that chance…

"Go," she said with a smile. "I can read it in your eyes, and you are making the wisest decision."

Erik stared back at her. "But what about—"

"I will reach my destination in my own, good time. And I will slow you down if I accompany you. Nay, this is more important; go, quickly, and do not stop if you can help it."

Erik didn't say a word, he simply nodded his head, and rushed towards his horse, ready to mount the giant beast and gallop to Winterbourne as fast as possible. But he paused, and turned his head back to the woman, who was finishing with packing up her supplies. She and her husband had worked for Sebastian de Coleville, the very man who Christine's parents had worked for. Christine never knew what became of her father's body, and from what this woman had revealed to him, all the bodies of Sebastian de Coleville's servants were cremated. He was already traveling back to Christine with the tapestry her father had given her. He wanted to also bring her back the news about her father's final resting place.

"You said that all of de Coleville's servants and tenants were…scattered here?" he asked.

The woman nodded her head. "Aye and I knew many of them. You see, I was a midwife, and I helped bring many of their children into this world."

_Midwife_. Christine had told him that her mother died while giving birth, and that the midwife was so far away, she was not able to make it in time. Was it possible that this woman knew Christine's family?

"I remember this one couple," the woman said with a smile at the memory. "There firstborn was a beautiful girl; she had a full head of dark hair, and large blue eyes, oh they were such a color," she sighed, happily. "She was the last baby I helped bring into this world, before my husband died and I was driven off the land. Sadly, the child's mother died eight years later, due to complications during the birth of her second child. I was so far away…and many mothers and their children died because I was not close by to help them."

It was the same woman! Erik could not believe the strange coincidence! "And the girl's father?" he asked. "What happened to him?"

"I do not know," the woman murmured sadly. "I heard of his death; I heard that he was very ill, and I would not be surprised if he died in a manner similar to that of my husband. But his child had already been sent away, to work for the nephew of Sebastian de Coleville, the man who is now the current baron."

Erik gritted his teeth. "And this Sebastian? What happened to him?" A part of him wished that the man was still alive; he longed to make the vile nobleman pay for all the pain and anguish his greed had caused over the years.

"Ah, that is the strangest thing of all," the woman murmured. "He died under…mysterious…circumstances. He was eating his dinner one night…and he just…collapsed."

Erik's brow furrowed. "Did he choke?"

"No one knows for sure," the woman sighed with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Some believe he was poisoned…"

Erik eyed the woman and she simply returned his stare with a dark one of her own.

"Well," Erik grunted, looking out over the field once more. "This is hallowed ground. I shall write to his majesty to see that the ground is taken care of, and that no one use it for ill or greedy purposes."

The woman smiled and bowed her head, in a gesture of thanks.

Erik then mounted his horse, secured the tapestry, and turned the giant, black beast, towards the north. "I thank you for your hospitality…and for your stories," he bowed his head. "Are you sure that I—"

"I thank you, my lord, but I insist that you travel onward, alone. I will slow you down…and I do not wish to keep you from reaching your destination."

Erik could not help but smile down at the woman. "Then give me your name, so that I may tell my wife of the wise woman who I met on my travel home."

The woman smiled. "Antoinette, my lord."

"Antoinette…" the name sounded oddly familiar, but he couldn't think of where he may have heard it from. "God be with you on your journey, and I hope and pray that your daughter and her children are in good health when you reach them."

"Thank you, my lord," Antoinette smiled. "I believe they will be. And God be with you on your journey…and especially once you reach your destination."

Erik bowed his head once more, before digging his heels into the stallion's flanks, and with a cry to the night sky, the horse bolted down the road, running at lightning speed towards the north.

Antoinette remained where she stood, until Sir Erik and his horse were far in the distance, and she could not see them. "Indeed, God be with you," she whispered. "For the worst of your troubles…are only beginning."

* * *

Christine sighed as she dug her hands down deep into the earth, and pulled a few weeds from the soil near her roses. She smiled as she heard the children laughing, as they played another game with Karl and Luc, Bernard and Ophelia's boys. Earlier, Helena and the twins had been helping her dig up the weeds, while Jacob and Charles dueled with their small, wooden swords. Karl and Luc came rushing over after they had finished their lessons, and Christine encouraged the children to go and play in the courtyard. She was grateful for all their help, and loved teaching them about gardening, but right now, she welcomed the opportunity to be by herself and think.

Four days had passed since Sir Erik had left. Four days had passed since Christine had traveled with Ophelia to the home of Elizabeth's parents. And ever since her encounter with Thomas and Giselle Continey, Christine remained shaken with the truth she had learned, as well as with the suspicions she had gained.

After they returned back to the castle, Christine wasn't quite sure what to say to Meg and Anne, who were the first to greet them upon arrival. Ophelia didn't say anything, she knew that Bernard would be curious to know where they had gone, and left immediately. Meg and Anne then turned to Christine for answers, but Christine was unsure exactly what to say. Should she tell them about her belief that Sarah and Sabrina were Elizabeth's daughters? Who else could it be? The twins were not present at the wedding ceremony, and she knew all about Charles, Helena, and Jacob. But then why hadn't Anne said anything to her? Surely Anne knew…didn't she?

Christine chose to keep her theory to herself, as well as the horrible truth about Sir Erik destroying the Continey's name by having the King seize their land and titles. It was a monstrous thing Erik had done, Christine could not deny that…and the last thing she wanted was for anyone to look upon Erik as a monster. So when Anne and Meg asked their questions, she simply told them about the grief in which Giselle and Thomas were consumed by, and how they despised Sir Erik, blaming him for the disappearance of their daughter, although it appeared that Elizabeth ran away and never returned of her own accord.

Then Meg said the very thing that Christine had been dreading, the thought she had pushed far away from her mind…

"What if she is still living? Wouldn't that mean that she is still Sir Erik's wife?"

Christine paled at these words and staggered slightly at the thought. Yes, if Elizabeth were alive…she would still be considered Sir Erik's wife! And if that were true…then her marriage with Sir Erik would be…false…

"The girl is dead, that is certain," Anne grumbled, noticing the fear in Christine's eyes.

Christine turned to Anne then, hoping to see if Anne knew more than she had revealed. "Do you know that for certain, Anne? Did she come back to die, unbeknownst to her parents? Did Sir Erik receive a message?" Christine's voice sounded high-pitched and desperate, and she immediately swallowed the emotional lump in her throat and attempted to calm down.

"Nay, child. I…I did not see the girl, I just…well…I believe she is dead, that is all. I…I just don't want ye worrying," she murmured, wrapping her arms around Christine and leading her into the castle. "The truth is, she's been missing for years and has never come back. I think we must accept the fact that she will never be coming back…that she is gone from this world."

Meg nodded her head, quick to agree with Anne and feeling horrible for troubling Christine. "Yes, Anne is right; she would have come back now if she were still living."

But ever since that day, Christine could not stop worrying. Nor could she stop thinking about the possibility that the twins were in fact Elizabeth's daughters.

_If they are, then Elizabeth must have come back! How else did they come here? But then again…someone could have sent them to Erik? Oh God…does that mean Erik is their father? He must be! Why else would he take the twins in? But Elizabeth had the affair with Sir Raoul…unless…unless she and Sir Erik shared a wedding night…_

Christine's stomach turned at the thought. She knew that Erik had fathered the other children, why did it bother her so that he may have also fathered Sarah and Sabrina? _Because for so long, you believed _you_ were his only wife. And now you learn about another woman, a _perfect_ woman, who was his wife before you; obedient, sweet natured, dutiful, and so beautiful, with her long golden hair and ivory skin…_

Christine gritted her teeth and closed her eyes as angry, jealous tears threatened to fall. Elizabeth had been his first wife…and Beatrice had been the woman to whom he had given his heart. He still didn't trust her with his secrets, and she wasn't sure if he would ever trust her with his heart. She loved him, she had told him so, and yet…it didn't seem to matter.

_Oh God, what am I going to do when I see the children!? When I see Sarah and Sabrina!? It's not fair to blame them, I shouldn't blame them; they are innocent! Don't let your jealousy get the better of you, don't allow it! _

"Mama?"

Christine paled at the sound of Sabrina's voice, and turned to find the tiny girl gazing up at her. "You're back!" the girl cried, and suddenly the other children descended upon her, each laughing and grinning up at her, each calling her mother.

And Christine's heart melted.

She bent down and scooped both of the twins up in her arms and hugged them fiercely to her body, raining kisses upon their cheeks, allowing her tears to flow, only they weren't out of jealousy and anger…but out of love and belonging.

"Yes," Christine joyfully sobbed as she hugged the children even closer. "Yes…yes, I am back," she wept. _And I _am_ your mother, no matter what, I am she._

"Mama!" Sarah wailed. "You're squeezing me too tight!"

Christine blushed and immediately loosened her grip, although she still held the girls close to her body. Helena and Charles didn't want to be left out, and wrapped their arms around her waist and hugged her tightly too. Jacob stood close by, a tender smile on his face, but curiosity written in his eyes.

"Mother?"

Christine let out a shaky breath as she realized it was Jacob who was talking to her. It was still so strange to hear them call her Mother, especially Jacob. But she loved it, that she could not deny, she loved being called Mother, and she wanted them to think of her as their mother, to do the things a mother should do with her children, to make up for all the years they never had a mother. "Yes?" Christine answered, smiling at the eldest boy and still hugging the others close to her body.

"Is everything alright?" Jacob asked. "You're crying…"

Christine blushed and immediately wiped her cheeks. "I'm fine," Christine whispered, smiling despite her tear stained cheeks. "Truly. I was just…overcome with emotion."

Jacob seemed satisfied with this answer, yet he still continued to look at her with curious suspicion.

Christine spent the rest of the day with the children, playing all sorts of games with them, including the game she had invented, Knights and Dragons. Together, they climbed trees, rode horses, and they even went swimming at one point, in a shallow pool near the ocean's edge. Later in the evening, after they finished their supper, they played a game of hide n' seek, using all of the castle's secret passages, and late at night, long after they should have gone to bed, Christine tucked them all in and sang to them one of her stories until each of them were fast asleep.

Christine was also extremely tired after her long and dramatic day. She gazed down at the twins once more, her fingers running across their golden ringlets, imagining Elizabeth's golden hair. "I am your mother," Christine whispered in the darkness. "She may have birthed you, but I am your mother."

It was in that moment that Christine felt the distant loneliness and longing for her husband.

She wanted Sir Erik to be there by her side so badly. She longed to feel his strong arms around her body, to feel him holding her close to his large, muscular frame, to bury her face against his chest, to hear his heart beating against her ear. These precious moments spent with one's children should be shared. And in truth, Christine dreaded going back to her empty bed, which would feel emptier now, than ever before.

So she spent that night with the children, curling up with the twins, cuddling them close as a deep, dreamless sleep took her, but not before two lonely tears trickled down her cheeks, her last waking thoughts on Sir Erik and wondering where he was in that moment.

Christine had spent the next few days doing whatever she could do to keep her loneliness for her husband at bay. She played many times with the children, as well as help teach them different tasks, from cooking, to sewing, and to her favorite, gardening. Even Jacob and Charles seemed interested in learning all these tasks, Jacob declaring that it was very useful for a knight to know how to feed himself, and repair the tears in his tunic, should he be far away from the comforts of home. Christine giggled with the other children and smiled at the eldest boy, sighing as she saw so much of Sir Erik in him. _Oh Erik, please hurry home! _

Christine spent so much of her time with the children, that she had little time to talk, discuss, or speculate about her trip to the Continey's with Ophelia, Meg, and Anne. It was just as well, for in truth, Christine did not wish to spend much of her time thinking about such things…and when she did, she preferred to do it alone.

Like now, as she tended to her roses while the children played.

_Perhaps I was wrong in searching for answers? Perhaps I should have simply kept my place, as a "good" wife should, and be docile and obedient, as is expected of a wife._ But Christine frowned at that thought; she had always had spirit, but until she met Sir Erik, her spirit had never been allowed to free itself, to speak her mind, to share her thoughts and opinions, to show her inner strength. When she was younger, if she did any of those things, she was immediately beaten by one of the other servants, if not by Carlotta or Lady Maria, herself. _Yet, where has my curiosity, my free spirit, taken me? To possibly discovering a truth I'm not sure I wish to know, and to driving away my husband, because I insisted on him showing me his face._ Christine sighed and pulled up the last of the weeds, gazing at the tiny rosebuds, which were not yet strong or old enough to bloom. _I won't push him anymore; I will cease my search for answers. When he wishes to share with me his secrets, he will…I hope. But until then, I will take joy in the affection he has shown me, and continue to tell him that I love him…_

But no matter how hard Christine tried to deny the truth, she knew her heart would break each time she told him that she loved him…and he remained silent.

"Oh stop it!" Christine hissed to herself, cursing softly as she pricked one of her fingers on one of the rose's thorns. "Love does not need to be spoken," she tried to convince herself. "Love can be shown, and should be! He has done many wonderful things for me, he…he has shown me love, he has been gentle, caring, considerate…" she sucked the tip of her finger to stop the bleeding, trying extremely hard to fight off the tears that threatened. "Oh stop being so selfish, Christine!" she chastised. "You have what you want, don't you? You have a _marriage_, which is far different from what you had a few weeks ago! And he will be coming home soon, and then…then…then you can apologize, and…and try to pretend that nothing happened—"

"Oh dear me. Did he abandon you again?"

Christine gasped in shock and lifted her head to where the voice was coming from. Another gasp escaped her lips as he recognized the handsome face of Sir Raoul de Chagny. As he had upon their first meeting, there he was, sitting lazily atop the wall that divided Christine's rose garden from the outside world.

Suddenly, all the thoughts that Christine had been trying to push away, all the thoughts that she had been trying to convince herself to not even think about, came crashing back…as did her hatred for the handsome man.

"How dare you…" Christine growled, her eyes darkening as she glared at Sir Raoul. "How dare you speak of abandonment, when you sir, are guilty of that crime!"

Sir Raoul's lazy smile changed, but still remained a smile. His eyes seemed to twinkle then, as if he had just made a bold discovery. "My, my, you're not the same girl I met all those weeks ago," he grinned, and without a second's thought, hopped down from the wall into the garden. "Look at you…like your little rose bush here, you seemed to have blossomed!"

Christine knew that with a simple scream, Bernard and the castle guards would come running to her side. Yet she held back her scream, mainly because she wanted to confront this man who she believed was responsible not only for the pain of her husband, but of the Continey family as well.

"I know what you want," Christine hissed, her hands balling into tight fists as she continued to stare him down, much like Sir Erik.

"Do you?" Sir Raoul asked, folding his arms across his chest in a somewhat cocky manner, arching one perfect, blonde eyebrow in question. "I am eager to hear what you think."

Christine glared at him with disgust. "You want to turn me away from my husband! You want me to believe all the lies you preach!"

Raoul's smile began to fade, just slightly. "Lies? They are not lies—"

"I know all about you!" Christine hissed, trying to keep herself from shouting. She didn't want to draw any attention, not yet at least. "I know that you wanted Elizabeth for yourself! I know that you turned your back on a man who trusted you, how you abandoned him on the battlefield to die, just so you could race back to Winterbourne and seduce his wife!"

Raoul's smile disappeared completely then, but his eyes still seemed to hold some mirth. "You sound awfully sure of yourself…" he murmured. "Did your dear husband tell you all this?"

"Nay," Christine replied, lifting her chin as she did so. "The servant who caught you and Elizabeth together, told me. Elizabeth confessed everything to that servant, how you had arrived, claiming that Sir Erik was dead, and thus seducing Elizabeth, right here in Sir Erik's home!"

Raoul's eyes narrowed slightly, but a tiny grin began to form at the corner of his lips. "I suppose loyalty runs deep for you, when it comes to believing the witness of a servant? After all, you were once one…"

How did he know that? Not even all of the servants in Winterbourne knew about Christine's past! How did Sir Raoul know? "Do you deny it, then?" Christine retorted, trying to not allow his words to get under her skin. "Are you saying that the servant lied, that you didn't seduce Elizabeth?"

Raoul's amused grin grew even bigger, and Christine wanted to claw it from his face. "I believe your friend elaborated, just slightly," he sighed. "Trying to make me sound like the villain."

"You _are_ the villain," Christine growled. "Abandoning a wounded man on the battlefield because you coveted his wife—"

"You don't know the FIRST thing about villainy!" Raoul practically roared, the grin from his face disappearing completely, revealing a crazed, vengeful wildness in his eyes. "Villainy is taking a young, innocent girl as one's wife, and planning to lock her away, for the rest of her life, in a tower where she can experience no joy, no sunlight, no love…and be burdened with looking after his brats!"

Christine had been taken aback by Raoul's first angered response, however she held fast to her courage and squared her shoulders. "Do not call them that," she warned, her eyes narrowing as she glared back at him. "And say what you will, it does not change the fact that you betrayed him!"

Raoul eyed her for a moment, before responding, his voice softening, but the crazed look in his eyes remaining. "Let me tell you _my_ side of the story," he growled. "_Then_ you can judge me." He took a few steps back and gazed once more at the tiny rose bush. "With the exception of Bernard…I was Erik's closest friend."

Christine's eyes widened, and Raoul didn't miss the surprise. "I'm assuming he didn't tell you?" he chuckled, but anyone could tell there was no humor in his voice. "I've known your husband, madam, since we were boys. I was there at the funeral of his father, Lord Edwin. I was there at the baptisms of his first two children, and I was there the night little Charles arrived at the castle," he began to pace the small garden, his eyes never leaving Christine's. "I encouraged him to marry, I believed it would do him good. After all, he had been deeply hurt by Beatrice…oh, do you know this story?"

Christine felt her face flush and she bit her lip to keep the angry tears at bay. Raoul only grinned when he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Well, doesn't matter, I'm sure he'll tell you in good time, just like everything else," he taunted. "But as I was saying, I encouraged him to marry, after all, he had three children and they had no mother. Besides, if you had seen how deeply hurt he was by Beatrice…" he sighed. "He needed a wife, to…take his mind off things, so to speak," he grinned when he noticed how deeply she blushed. "And eventually, Erik took my advice. And I was happy for him…at first."

Christine's skin trembled at the dark way Raoul's voice changed, and she was beginning to wish she had a weapon of some kind.

"I soon learned that Erik had no intentions of being a 'husband' to his young bride. He was marrying her…well, I think you know the reason why, after all, it was the same reason he married you, am I wrong?"

Christine bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to show the handsome knight that his words were hurting her deeply.

"And don't you think that's wrong?" he asked, slowly approaching her. "To marry a young woman, so full of life and hope, to simply exile her to a loveless life, taking care of another woman's children, not even giving her her own children to cherish? If you ask me, that's true villainy."

Christine took in all of Sir Raoul's words, and found herself shaking slightly. Was it true? Did Sir Erik intend to only marry Elizabeth for the same reason he had meant to marry her? If that were so…then Sir Erik couldn't be the father of Sarah and Sabrina! Which only meant…

"But you abandoned her, too," Christine countered. Sir Raoul, who had been approaching her like a cat, stalking its prey, stopped dead in his tracks, and she could tell that her words had deeply wounded him. "It's true," Christine continued. "Say what you will, trying to make yourself sound noble and heroic, that you were 'rescuing' her from a life without passion, but the truth of the matter is, you abandoned her just as you abandoned Sir Erik on that battle field."

Raoul's teeth were grinding together at her words. "I would be careful, if I were you…"

But Christine did not heed his warning, she continued on, her voice rising, her breathing growing rapidly, her heartbeat speeding. "She meant nothing to you, she was just another mark on your bedpost. You treated her like a common whore!"

"I LOVED HER!" Raoul roared, and without warning, he was upon Christine, his hands clasping her shoulders and throwing her back against the castle wall, nearly knocking the wind out of her body.

But she continued, refusing to show fear. "Love? You call abandoning her to deal with all the consequences of _your_ actions, love? Where were you when Sir Erik returned from war? Where were you when he rode off to Elizabeth's home to annul the marriage? Where were you when she was forced to run away!?"

"HE _KILLED_ HER!" Raoul roared, shaking Christine and looking hysterical. "HE FORCED HER TO RUN AWAY! HE NEVER FELT ANYTHING FOR HER, BUT I LOVED HER! I STILL LOVE HER! CAN _YOUR_ PRECIOUS BLACK KNIGHT SAY THE SAME TO YOU?!?"

"Yes," growled a deep, dark voice, just behind Sir Raoul.

Raoul whipped his head around and Christine gasped at the sight of Sir Erik, standing tall and powerful, his sword ready, and his eyes blazing with fury.

"Now…get your hands off my wife."


	34. Revealing Confessions

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Good news "Tapestry" fans! I have decided to dedicate my writing time for the next few chapters to this wonderful story, simply because some big things are about to happen...including the discovery of Sir Erik's past! Now for those of you who are fans of "Date Phantom" don't worry, more is coming for that too, just hang in there and I hope you enjoy this rather long, emotional chapter, which I like to think of as the "turning point" for the rest of the story...**

* * *

**Summary: **Sir Raoul and the Black Knight square off in a huge fight that leads to battle wounds, both old and new, as well as confessions and stunning revelations...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Revealing Confessions_**

_"Are you nervous?" Bernard asked, standing beside his friend as he gazed out the window. _

_Erik's gaze never faltered. "Should I be?" he calmly asked, his eyes fixed on the road leading to Winterbourne. _

_"Most men usually are, on their wedding day…"_

_Erik grunted at the word, but said nothing. Everyone at Winterbourne was buzzing, and guests from all across the countryside were coming in droves, to celebrate the surprising nuptials of the infamous Black Knight. Much to Erik's annoyance, Anne felt it was important to prepare the castle for such a celebration; lace curtains flowed down the walls of the great hall, and tiny white flowers were scattered everywhere. _

_The priest from Valmour had been there since day break, as had one of the King's representatives. Also in attendance were Raoul and his men, who would be joining Sir Erik the following day. _

_"'Tis a shame, sadly," Bernard sighed with a shake of his head. "One would think that the King would understand that this is your wedding day…and send someone else in your stead to fight for him."_

_Erik lifted his chin slightly, as a carriage could be seen in the distance, slowly approaching the castle. "I am but the King's humble servant; if he wishes to send me to lead his armies into battle, then I will gladly do so."_

_Bernard frowned at his friend's words. "Aye, but the King helped you with finding your bride, therefore I would think the King would be more understanding to your…situation."_

_"War occurs every day, it does not stop or pause for celebration," Erik murmured, his eyes still fixed on the carriage as it grew closer and closer._

_"That may be," Bernard replied, his eyes moving from the road to Sir Erik. "But…I am also aware that…you requested this charge…"_

_Slowly, Erik turned his head and caught the steady gaze of his steward. "What are you implying?"_

_Bernard swallowed the lump in his throat, lifting his chin and trying his hardest to not look nervous by the cold growl in the Black Knight's voice. "I know very little about this summons to war, my lord," Bernard answered, standing straight and tall. "But…I am curious to know…does it by any chance have something to do…with The Jackal?"_

_Erik's eyes narrowed, but he quickly turned his head back to the window. "The Jackal is dead…you know this."_

_"Aye, but I know that his men still threaten our shorelines, threatening revenge upon—"_

_Bernard was cut off by thunderous laughter. The sound chilled him, mainly because it was coming from none other than Sir Erik. "Do you honestly think that The Jackal's lackeys are a match to me?" he asked, between chuckles._

_Bernard did not care for the way his friend and master disregarded the danger brought on by the vicious pirate's crew. The Jackal had been dead for years, or so it was believed. In truth, no one saw the fight between Sir Erik and the villainous pirate atop a jagged cliff near Winterbourne, but Bernard remembered his master, emerging from the fog, bent over and weary, covered in blood (both his own and his enemy's), and his eyes holding a look of great relief and vengeful satisfaction…as well as a deep, sorrowful pain._

_Only he and Sir Raoul knew why the Black Knight had such pain in his eyes…_

_"This has nothing to do with The Jackal, Bernard. Let me be clear on that…and let that be the final word," Sir Erik growled, before grabbing a forest-green cape, and clasping it to his tunic. "Now, if you will excuse me…I must go and greet my bride."_

_Without another word, Erik turned and left Bernard behind his chamber, and with great, wide strides, exited the castle to greet the large carriage that was coming up to Winterbourne's gates._

_"Erik!" The Black Knight turned his head to see Raoul leave a group of his men who had been standing nearby and talking, to rush over to his side. "Erik, my friend, I was wondering if I might have a word with you?"_

_Erik continued walking, but he cocked his visible brow at Raoul's words. "Now? I hardly think this is the proper moment—"_

_"Erik, please hear me out," Raoul hissed, gripping hold of the Black Knight's arm in an attempt to slow him down. "If you insist upon carrying on with this—"_

_Erik stopped so quickly, that Raoul nearly stumbled forward. He turned and faced his handsome friend, looking irritated and confused. "You mean, 'my wedding'?" Erik asked, folding his mighty arms across his broad chest and lifting his visible brow even more. _

_Raoul swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and slowly nodded his head. Ever since Erik had told him about his upcoming marriage to Elizabeth Continey, Raoul could not stop thinking about the horrible mistake that was about to take place. He had meant what he said, about feeling restless, about wanting to have a wife and family, but knowing that because his fortune was small, few noblemen were willing to give their daughters in marriage to him. And while Raoul had been wary at first of the Continey family, no girl deserved the fate of a loveless, passionless marriage that could not even grow into one of respect. Did Erik not realize the extraordinary gift he was about to be given? Had Beatrice truly hurt him that badly? This would do his friend more harm than by not seeking a bride at all!_

_"Erik, I beg you to consider the actions you are about to make," Raoul hissed as the Black Knight began walking again, his mighty strides approaching the carriage which had just stopped outside Winterbourne's gates. _

_"I have considered them," Sir Erik growled. "And I come to the conclusion that this marriage is for the best."_

_Raoul shook his head, trying to think of what he could say to convince his friend otherwise. "Erik, are you truly seeking a bride? Or just some…some _servant girl_ to raise your children?"_

_If the carriage door had not opened just then, Erik would have retaliated at Raoul's comment with the threat of his fist, however he was stopped short when Thomas Continey exited the carriage, smiling brightly at both Sir Erik and Sir Raoul, before extending his hand to help a small, golden-haired beauty, down from the carriage._

_Both men stared at the girl, who was dressed beautifully in a long, white robe and tunic, netted lace covering her arms and shoulders, white flowers strung through her beautiful golden tresses, and a ring of ivy beautifully crowning the sheer veil that covered her head. "Ah! Sir Erik, may I present my daughter, and the future Lady von Desslar, Elizabeth."_

_The girl's eyes had been fixated on the ground before her, and then finally, she lifted her head up, until her soft, green eyes, met the hard golden gaze of her future husband._

_Raoul sucked in a deep breath._

_"My lady…" Erik murmured, bowing before Elizabeth, who obediently extended her hand at her father's insistence, allowing her future husband to kiss it._

_"My lord!" whispered Raoul to Thomas Continey, his eyes still staring at Elizabeth's golden head. "I beg of you…an introduction?"_

_Thomas frowned slightly at Raoul's words, and then glanced at Sir Erik. Erik was not smiling, but by no means did he give Continey a look that forbade him from making the introduction. "Elizabeth," he murmured, turning her slightly until she was fully facing the handsome knight. "May I present Sir Raoul de Chagny…a good friend of your _husband"_ Thomas emphasized that last word, his eyes looking directly at Sir Raoul._

_Elizabeth rewarded Sir Raoul with a small, sweet smile, extending her hand to the handsome knight, who immediately bowed low before her and kissed it, his lips lingering momentarily on the soft skin, before lifting his head to catch a small blush on her cheek, while her eyes looked down at her feet in a docile manner._

_Erik had not missed the intimate exchange between his future bride and his so-called friend, and for the first time since he had cornered Beatrice, all those years ago, he felt the cold stab of jealousy and possessiveness grip his heart. "Come," he growled, his hand gripping Raoul's shoulder and turning the handsome knight away from Elizabeth's blushing face. "Gather your men and let us get on with the ceremony."_

_"Indeed," Thomas agreed, taking his daughter's arm and leading her away from the two knights._

_Erik planned on following Elizabeth and her father, but no sooner had he turned, than Raoul seemed to awake from his momentary stupor, and grip Erik's shoulder with both hands. "Erik, listen to me—"_

_"Let go," Erik growled, his eyes glaring at Raoul's hand as if it were a bug crawling up his arm._

_"Erik, please," Raoul hissed, his voice sounding desperate. "Don't do this, don't go on with this…this…this charade!"_

_Erik's hand swept up and pushed Raoul's own hands off him, before turning and glaring at his friend, his eyes full of harsh promises if Raoul didn't listen. "Gather your men, and join me in the great hall for the ceremony…_now_."_

_Without another word, Erik turned on his heel and stalked off in the direction Elizabeth had gone, leaving Raoul standing there in the courtyard, his chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. He watched Sir Erik stride away, and felt his skin crawl with disdain, anger, and for the first time…_hatred_, for the masked knight. _

_He was jealous of Sir Erik, he had always been jealous of him for the many things he had in life, from favor with the King, to his vast fortune, to his reputation as being the best and most feared knight in the entire realm. He envied Sir Erik for so much…_

_And this was one thing he was NOT going to allow the Black Knight to possess…_

* * *

Christine's hand flew to her mouth to block out the scream that rose up in her throat as Sir Raoul pushed himself away from her, and lunged at the Black Knight with his sword. She did not even have the opportunity to murmur Erik's name, before Raoul moved in to attack. 

"VILLAIN!" Raoul roared, swinging his sword with a mighty strength, growling when Ghost Maker countered the swing and met Raoul's sword midair. "I'll see you burn in hell, Erik!" Raoul shouted, his face only a few inches away from the Black Knight's.

"After you, then, dear friend!" Erik growled back, before pushing Raoul away from him and lunging at the blonde knight, himself.

Christine stared at the two men in horror, unsure exactly what to do, but feeling so afraid for her husband. She knew that Sir Erik was a mighty warrior and that he could easily fend for himself, but Sir Raoul looked possessed! As if some jealous demon had invaded his soul! And the way he was fighting her husband, the passion in which he threw his sword at Sir Erik…

She was terrified, completely terrified.

Unsurprising, the fight drew a crowd. Bernard was the first to hear Raoul's violent roar, and ran to the rose garden where he knew Christine was sitting. He drew his own sword, fully prepared to defend his mistress, but stopped himself short at the sight of his master, lunging at the handsome rogue, his golden eyes wild with rage and hatred.

Close behind Bernard came the castle guards, shocked that not only had Raoul invaded Winterbourne (again) but that Sir Erik was there, too! No one had seen the Black Knight arrive; he had not even entered the main gates to the castle! "STAY OUT OF THIS!" Erik shouted, when Bernard and the guards attempted to intervene and help their master. He had a personal score to settle with his former friend…

Soon there were servants, leaning out of the castle windows and filling the courtyard, gasping as they watched the two men fight, Anne gripping her apron and crossing herself, while Meg and Robert held fast to each other, Meg burrowing her head against Robert's chest each time one of the knight's lunged at the other.

"PAPA!"

Christine's head turned quickly to catch sight of Jacob and the other children, each staring wide-eyed with horrified eyes as they watched their father fight the other strange knight.

"PAPA!" Jacob cried again, before attempting to rush to his father's side, as if to help him fend off Sir Raoul.

Despite the growing crowd, Erik's full attention had been on Raoul, who kept wildly swinging his sword like a madman. However, the second he heard Jacob's panicked voice, he turned his head to the boy, his eyes wide as he noticed Jacob attempt to rush towards him. "NO JACOB!" Erik bellowed. "STAY BACK!"

An evil grin spread across Raoul's face. The handsome knight took the opportunity while the Black Knight was distracted to swing at him.

Christine screamed, and Erik caught Raoul's blow with his own sword, but not before the tip of Raoul's blade made contact with his shoulder.

"AHHHH!" Erik roared as Raoul dug the edge of his blade into the Black Knight's shoulder, grinning madly as he watched the visible side of Erik's face contort in pain. But Erik gritted his teeth, lifted his foot until it was resting against Raoul's stomach, and before the handsome knight could react from the sudden gesture, Erik kicked Raoul away from him, the blonde rogue flying backwards and hitting the castle wall with a loud thud.

The crowd didn't even have the chance to cheer. "GET THEM OUT OF HERE!" Erik roared to Bernard, his eyes wildly set upon the frightened, pale faces of his children.

Christine was jolted from her shock by Erik's plea. The color had been drained from her face when she watched Raoul's blade make contact with Erik's shoulder, and her heart screamed as she heard his voice roar with pain. But the fear in his eyes for the safety of his children was far greater than any pain he was feeling from his bleeding shoulder. And for a brief moment, she locked eyes with him and saw the plea in the depths of his eyes just as she had heard it in his voice; only it was ten times stronger. Without a second thought, Christine pushed herself away from the wall she had flattened herself against, and rushed to where the children stood, all of them crying and whimpering their father's name.

"Come with me, come!" she insisted, one arm wrapping around Jacob's shoulders, and trying to lead the boy away, while her other hand attempted to shepherd the younger ones.

Jacob was staring at his father, his eyes filled with pain and fear, wanting to help him more than anything, but feeling so afraid for him. "Papa…" he wailed, his body taking one step away from Christine's arm, wanting to reach out to the injured knight who was gripping his bleeding shoulder and snarling at the blonde knight who was struggling to get to up.

"Go, Jacob, please!" Erik shouted. "Protect your brother and sisters! Protect your mother!"

"Jacob, come, please!" Christine hissed, her hand gripping Jacob's shoulder and pulling with all her might to turn the boy away.

With a heavy heart, Jacob did as his father commanded, and helped Christine lead the other children into the castle. Ophelia had rushed forward then, bending down to scoop up the twins who were crying and screaming with fear. Raoul coughed, the wind having been knocked out of him, and stared at the two screaming girls, his eyes narrowing as more anger seethed through him. "YOU BASTARD!" he roared, glaring at Sir Erik as he finally scrambled to his feet. "YOU LYING SON OF A BITCH!"

Erik was ready for Raoul's attack, and easily countered it with a blow of his own sword, almost sending the stunned and angry knight into another nearby wall. Christine had noticed the crazed look in Raoul's eyes when he looked at the twins, and fear gripped her heart as she wondered if Raoul knew about the possibility that the girls were Elizabeth's children? If so…did that mean that Raoul knew who the father was? Was _he_ the father? He had neither confirmed nor denied the fact when he had been shouting at her only a few moments ago. All she remembered was him telling her how Erik was only marrying Elizabeth to be a mother for his children, that he had no intentions of being her husband in _every_ meaning of the word. However, Erik may have changed his mind, after all, Elizabeth's parents raved about how beautiful she was…perhaps Sir Erik had shared a marriage bed with Elizabeth? Perhaps Raoul knew this…

"Mama!" Helena wailed, and Christine wrapped her arms around the girl and held her close while both she and Ophelia led the other children inside the castle. Within a few moments, Anne was by their side, shushing the others and trying to calm them down.

"Is Papa g-g-going to d-d-d-die?" Charles asked, hiccupping between his tears.

"Oh child, your father is a strong man," Anne reassured, drawing the boy to her breast and holding him close. "Just ye wait and see, the Black Knight has never lost a fight."

However, the children didn't seem to find this news comforting. Helena held fast to Christine, as the twins held fast to Ophelia and sobbed against her shoulders. Jacob stood but a few feet away and watched through a window, his entire body trembling, his skin ashen and his breathing shallow. The boy looked as if he may collapse any moment!

Christine picked Helena up and gave her to Anne, before quickly rushing over to Jacob's side in an attempt to draw him away from the window.

However, she too found herself staring, and listening to Sir Raoul's heated words as he and Sir Erik continued to fight.

"I TRUSTED YOU! I TRUSTED YOU MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE!"

Erik countered Raoul's strike and glared at the man with hateful eyes. "YOU dare to speak of trust!?" he shouted back through clenched teeth. "YOU LEFT ME TO DIE!" Raoul barely stopped Erik's sword from slicing into his leg. Despite the obvious wound to his shoulder, Erik was still the stronger swordsman. "And then," he growled, attempting to corner the blonde knight against his own body and the castle wall. "You betray my trust, again, by coming back here…and defiling my bride!"

Raoul spat on the ground before Erik's feet. "I touched nothing you hadn't already touched yourself!" he hissed. "You defiled Elizabeth with your own vile hands, you lying hypocrite!"

Erik growled, glaring at Raoul and lifting his sword, prepared for another attack. "A hypocrite, am I?" he snarled, lifting his visible brow in question.

"Aye!" Raoul barked. "You said that you didn't love her, that you had no intentions of being a husband to her, and then you went against your word and defiled her sweet, innocent flesh, for your own monstrous lust!" he threw his sword once more towards Sir Erik's shoulder, but Erik leapt away, and caught the blade with his own.

"I _hardly_ think you are in a position to claim moral authority!" Erik snarled, shoving his uninjured shoulder into Raoul's chest and pushing him away again. "She was MY wife!"

"SHE MEANT NOTHING TO YOU!" Raoul roared, lifting his sword and charging. "I LOVED HER! I BEGGED YOU NOT TO MARRY HER, I PLEADED FOR HER!"

Christine covered her mouth and held back a scream as Erik swung his sword and knocked Raoul's out of his own hands, before taking the hilt and pounding it, hard, into Raoul's back. The blonde knight let out a loud groan of pain, before falling forwards, his face and jaw hitting the stone wall, causing a loud, cracking sound to echo off its stone surface.

Without another word, Christine grabbed Jacob by the shoulders and pushed him towards Anne and Ophelia. "Both of you! Take the children to their rooms, NOW!" she ordered, her voice stern and firm.

Anne didn't even hesitate. "Aye, milady," she whispered, before shushing the protesting children up the castle stairs to their chamber. Ophelia bit her lip with worry, but also followed the old woman up the stairs, the twins crying hysterically in her arms.

Christine then ran back outside, pushing her way through the crowd, stopping only when Bernard's strong hands caught hold of her shoulders. "Nay, milady!" he hissed. "'Tis too dangerous!"

Raoul let out another groan of pain, before rolling over onto his back, his hands clutching his bleeding jaw and nose. Christine felt her stomach churn as Raoul spit some blood onto the ground, along with several teeth. "F-f-finish me, then" he gasped between coughs. "You've always wanted to…"

Christine bit her lip, her eyes flying to Sir Erik to see his reaction.

Erik was growling, his golden eyes locked on Raoul's pitiful, bleeding face. "You come into my home…" he began, stalking towards his former friend. "You threaten my wife…" he hissed, drawing his sword closer and closer. "And attempt, once more, to turn a wife against her husband—"

Raoul interrupted Erik's words with weak laughter. "I didn't have to turn her away from you," he spat. "YOU do that all on your own!"

"ERIK!" Christine cried, when the Black Knight let out a mighty roar and drove his sword down upon the beaten form of Sir Raoul…only to have the tip of his blade land, purposefully, on the ground just inches away from his head.

Raoul had been prepared for death then, and when he did not taste its sting, he opened his eyes and looked up to see Sir Erik glaring at him with deep rage. The once handsome knight began laughing once more. "Perhaps I was wrong," he murmured, glancing towards Christine's frightened face. "Maybe married life has softened you?"

Erik let out a mighty roar and grabbed Raoul by the collar of his tunic, and despite the armor that the man wore, lifted him off the ground until his feet were dangling beneath him. "BERNARD!" Erik barked. "Take Lady von Desslar inside…NOW!"

However, Christine was quicker, and before Bernard could even place his hands upon her shoulders, she was away from him and by Sir Erik's side. "Erik, please! I know that he has done great wrong by you, but—"

"How sweet," Raoul interrupted, despite the fact that he was bleeding, dangling off the ground, and gasping for breath. "I had…no idea I had made…such an impression," he coughed. "Or at least…to the point where you would plead for me, milady."

Erik didn't even have the chance to growl at his former friend, let alone react to his wife's plea. Christine glared at Sir Raoul with disgust, and before anyone could blink, threw her fist back and punched the once handsome, now bleeding blonde knight, directly into his left eye.

"OUCH!" Raoul groaned, coughing and swearing in the wake of Christine's punch.

Erik stared at the petite woman who stood by his side, her fists going to her hips as she continued to glare at Sir Raoul. "Do everyone a favor, including yourself, and hold your tongue!" she warned, her voice filled with disgust and aggravation. All Erik could think was…where on earth did she learn to throw a punch!?

Then, as if nothing had happened, Christine turned her attention once more upon her husband. "Erik, please, I am _not_ pleading for his life, trust me…" she looked back at Sir Raoul who was glaring right back at her through his swelling eye. "I can understand, _completely_, why you despise him," she looked back up at Sir Erik. "But answer me truly, Erik…will ending his life truly bring you satisfaction? Will it truly bring you peace?"

He felt her tiny hands clutch at his arm that held the bleeding knight off the ground. This was his enemy, the man he once called "friend" but who betrayed him, the same way others he had loved and trusted betrayed him. Why shouldn't he kill him now? Would he find satisfaction in Raoul's death? He was certain he would. But would he find peace?

"Erik…" Christine's voice was so soft, but so clear. He turned his eyes back to her and saw in their blue depths such hope, such love, and such need. It wasn't need for Raoul, which a jealous man would assume, which he would assume if he did not know Christine. But Christine had proven her loyalty, again and again. Christine had told him of her love for him, as well as shown it, again and again. And right now, as he felt her small hands clutch his arm and as he looked into her eyes, he knew that she was pleading for _him_.

Vengeance did not bring peace, it only created more ghosts.

"My lord?"

Erik was shaken by Bernard's voice. His steward had stepped forward, prepared to either lead Christine away, or to follow whatever orders his master gave. As for Christine, she held her breath as she awaited her husband's words.

Erik looked at Raoul one last time, before thrusting him into the arms of his guards. "Take him to the east tower," he growled to Bernard. "I'll deal with him later."

Raoul looked surprised by Erik's order. He had expected that the last thing he would ever feel in this world was the harsh sting of Ghost Maker. However, he knew he was dealing with the Black Knight, a man who was infamous for the way he tortured his enemies to retrieve information. No doubt that was the fate that now awaited him. "Good to see that you haven't changed, Erik," Raoul spat as the guards began to drag him away. "Good to see that the monster still breathes!"

Erik had turned his back, but as soon as Raoul's words had reached his ears, he turned and roared a mighty, "STOP!" to his guards.

Christine held her breath and stared at Raoul with such loathing. Was he trying to get himself killed? _Yes, he _wants_ to provoke Sir Erik into killing him, he wants to make Erik suffer even after his death, the bastard!_

Erik stalked towards Raoul, and despite his bleeding face, Raoul grinned maliciously up at the brooding figure of the Black Knight. "Second thoughts on running me through?"

"Nay," Erik whispered, his voice deadly soft. "I just wanted to give you a 'proper' welcome…" and without any warning, Erik threw his own fist back and punched Raoul so hard, that the man's head whipped back, blood and teeth flying from his already bleeding mouth, and knocking him unconscious. "Now," Erik growled, looking at his stunned guards, "take him away."

All the servants began whispering amongst themselves, taking in the entirety of the day's events, however one glare from their master, and they all immediately scattered, hurrying back to their chores. Erik then turned his gaze onto Christine, who was looking up at him with a mixture of thankfulness, shock, and worry. No doubt she had been shaken by everything that had transpired, and he had many questions to ask her.

But right now, all that mattered was getting her inside, someplace where they could be alone to talk…

"Where did you come from!?" Bernard asked, his eyes wide as he rushed to Sir Erik's side. "I didn't see you enter the castle gates, I was right there in the main courtyard!"

Erik's eyes narrowed as he glared at the castle's exterior wall. "I entered the same way our new 'guest' entered," he growled, pointing to the castle wall. "I saw his horse near the wall, and noticed several cracks in the stone that made useful footholds," his anger was growing as he recalled watching Sir Raoul shout at Christine, then threaten her by throwing her up against the wall. "WHY weren't there any guards patrolling the perimeter!?" he hissed, and before Bernard could open his mouth to answer, Erik's finger was in the steward's face. "I told you to be on CONSTANT watch! I gave you ONE responsibility, one SIMPLE responsibility, and that was to protect MY family!"

Bernard knew better than to interrupt when his friend had lost his temper. So far, in all the years they had known each other, Erik and he had never thrown blows at one another, and Bernard knew it was because he knew how to manage Erik's raging temper. Best to allow Erik to shout at him and get the anger out of his system, than to get angry and protest back. Besides, Bernard knew that Erik's anger was due mainly to the fear that Christine, or the children, could have been hurt by Sir Raoul's "invasion". And in that sense, Bernard could not deny that he had failed his master.

"I will fix the problem at once and make sure that at all times, there are men not only standing guard at the gates, but also patrolling the castle's perimeter."

Erik was seething, but lifted his chin and nodded his head, glad that his friend had a much calmer head than he and knew exactly how to handle these situations. "Good," he murmured, before turning on his heel to gaze at the pale face of his wife, who was standing nearby and trembling. Erik silently cursed himself, thinking he must have frightened her with his angry tone. He went to take a step towards her…and a sharp, stinging pain, suddenly wracked his whole body.

"Erik!" Christine gasped, running to his side to keep him from collapsing. Thank heaven Bernard was still there; she in no way would have had the strength to steady him on her own.

"'Tis the wound," Bernard assessed, pushing all his body weight under Erik's uninjured shoulder to help the Black Knight stand. "He has lost a good deal of blood, we must clean the wound at once, and sew it immediately."

Christine's eyes went wide at Bernard's words. Sew the wound? Her stomach turned at the thought, and as she gazed at Sir Erik's bleeding shoulder, she felt somewhat lightheaded. Until this day, she had never witnessed a man bleeding from a sword wound…

But she quickly swallowed the nervousness in her throat and shook her head. Sir Erik needed her right now, and she would do no one any good if she fainted. "Let's get him to his chamber," she softly commanded, helping Bernard in supporting her husband.

"I am no child!" Erik groaned, hissing at the pain in his shoulder. "I've felt much worse, remember?"

"That may be," Bernard grumbled. "But we must keep in mind that you fought someone who hates you perhaps more than anyone else in this world. He dug that blade into your shoulder until he could scrape bone."

Christine closed her eyes and counted to ten to keep her senses, despite Bernard's gruesome description.

"Here! You there!" Bernard shouted to a nearby servant.

It was Robert, who came running toward them, and without even being asked, went to where Christine stood, and took Sir Erik's weight onto himself. "To his chambers?"

"Aye," Bernard replied. "And have your wife find Anne; she can help sew up the wound."

Meg did not need to be told again, she had heard everything from she had been standing. "Come, Christine," Meg urged, pulling on Christine's hand to follow her. "We shall fetch Anne, and I will make one of those potions Mama taught me, that will help heal Sir Erik's wound."

But Christine was not listening; all she cared about was what happened to her husband. Meg however noticed the uneasy steps Christine was taking, and could tell that her friend was suffering from lightheadedness. "Christine," Meg urgently hissed with a squeeze of her hand. "You must see to the children, you must reassure them that he will be alright."

Christine seemed to come back to reality thanks to Meg's wise words. "Yes…yes, of course, no doubt they are worrying." She wanted to be by Sir Erik's side more than anything, but she knew that the children needed her as well; no doubt they were frightened and worried for their father's health and safety. Without another word, she lifted her skirts and rushed up the steps towards the children's chambers, her heart pounding with every step and her mind sending up prayers to heaven that her husband would be all right.

* * *

"I WANT TO RUN A SWORD THROUGH HIM!" Jacob shouted, kicking his boot hard against the wall of his bedchamber. 

"Jacob, please!" Christine warned, holding the twins even closer to her as they began to whimper at their brother's heated words.

"SIR RAOUL SHOULD DIE FOR WHAT HE TRIED TO DO!" Jacob shouted, his body shaking with rage as he recalled the horrible memory of his father groaning in pain while Sir Raoul stabbed him in the shoulder. "WHY does Father allow the villain to live!?"

"Your father has his reasons," Ophelia murmured, trying to be the calm voice of reason. She and Christine had been sitting with the children for several hours, waiting to hear the news on Sir Erik. Jacob, of course, was the angriest out of them all, and upon hearing that Sir Raoul was still alive and locked away in the east tower, wanted to grab a sword and finish where his father had left off! It had taken both Christine and Ophelia to hold the boy back.

"Bah," Jacob grumbled, turning on his heel and gripping the window's edge while he glared outside at the darkening sky.

Helena and Charles were huddled together at the other end of the room, silent tears still dripping down their cheeks. As soon as Jacob seemed to be under control, the twins ran to Christine and she held them close, whispering soothing words into their hair as they held tightly to her. "Perhaps…perhaps a song?" she suggested, hoping that would help ease the tension in the room.

"Oh!" Ophelia smiled, hoping to help lighten the tension as well. "Please, I've heard wonderful things about your songs."

The children, however, did not seem to be in the mood for singing.

"I want to see Papa…" Charles sniffled.

"Me too," Helena whispered, wrapping her arms even tighter around her younger brother.

Christine nodded her head, her feelings the same as the children.

"You will be able to see him soon," Ophelia murmured, still trying to sound hopeful and light-hearted, although it was proving to be difficult.

Helena looked up at Christine and rose to her feet. "Mama, how much longer do you think we'll have to wait?"

Christine took a deep breath and smiled back at her daughter. "I'm sure it will be soon, just as Ophelia said," she murmured. "Your father is most likely resting, but as soon as he is awake, someone will come and tell us and we can—"

"Children?"

Everyone, all the children and Christine and Ophelia, immediately stood at the sound of Anne's voice, who was standing in the doorway of the chamber, wiping her newly washed hands upon her apron.

Jacob rushed forward, his eyes wide. "Is he awake? Can we go see him?"

"Aye, but wait!" she called out, grabbing hold of Jacob's shoulder, before the boy could rush off. "Your father is well and healing quickly, but he does need his rest, so no shouting, asking endless questions, or climbing up all over him, ye understand?"

The children all nodded their heads, and as soon as Anne stepped aside, they all bolted out the door, heading directly to their father's chamber.

Anne sighed and smiled as she watched their retreating backs. "Amazing," she murmured, smiling at Ophelia. "Can ye remember that it was not so long ago when young Jacob used to wish ill for his father? And look at the lad now!"

Ophelia smiled and nodded her head. "Indeed, all of the children have changed and now feel much closer to their father, as I'm sure he feels for them."

Anne's smile grew even more. "Aye, and we know exactly who to thank, don't we?" she turned her head to Christine, but her smile immediately disappeared when she saw Christine leaning her head out the window and retching.

"Good heavens child!" Anne gasped, rushing to the young woman's side. "Are ye alright? Oh, silly question, come, come, let's get ye to your room so ye can lie down and—"

"Nay," Christine gasped, her hand patting her chest as she took a deep breath of the night air to help clear her senses. "I…I just…everything today, I…"

"Hush child," Anne soothed. "Ye have been through so much. I remember when my dear husband, God rest his soul, came home from a seven week sea voyage, and I was so relieved and happy to hear the good news…I reacted the exact same way ye did. 'Tis the nerves that do it."

Christine was slightly embarrassed, but thankful for Anne and Ophelia's understanding.

"Come, let's get ye to bed, I think ye could use the rest—"

"Oh no, I couldn't," Christine shook her head. "I need to see him, at least for a moment."

Anne nodded her head and smiled. "Aye, it will do ye both good, I think." Christine squeezed the old woman's hand, before leaving her friends in the children's chamber. Anne let out a long sigh after Christine disappeared from sight and turned to face Ophelia. "The master is fine, but ye will not believe the fight we had to endure!"

Ophelia was surprised by Anne's declaration. "Fight? What on earth do you mean? I thought surely Sir Erik was resting—"

"He's resting now, but at the time, he would not stop struggling!" she shook her head and groaned. "I've sewn his flesh before when he's returned home from battle, injuries still bleeding," she grumbled. "But those times, he's always sat still and allowed me to go about my work! This time…" she rolled her eyes. "This time I had to sew the stitches five times, before they would stay shut!"

Ophelia's eyes widened. "Good gracious! Why was he struggling so? Was it fever?"

"Nay," Anne groaned, rubbing her sore back from the long hours of being hunched over her master while she sewed his flesh. "The man is completely lucid, which is why it was harder to keep him still! He kept wanting to climb out of bed, he kept talking about how he needed to speak with her right away, that it was important and could not wait another moment longer."

A confused look fell across Ophelia's face at Anne's last words. "Her? Who did he mean?"

Anne's eyes went in the direction Christine had gone. "Her ladyship."

* * *

Christine silently stood in the doorway as she watched the scene before her. Erik was reclining in his bed, his chest bare, a bandage wrapped around his shoulder, while the children were gathered around him, some having climbed up onto the bed, despite Anne's warnings, and snuggling against him. 

"I don't understand," Jacob grumbled, pacing violently about the room. "WHY can't we kill him!?"

"Jacob, enough," Erik growled, his voice filled with warning, but also filled with love for his son. He knew that the boy only spoke so because he was angry with what Raoul had tried to do, which was make Jacob and all his siblings fatherless. Indeed, the thought itself caused Erik's jaw to tighten, but he would deal with Raoul later; now he had more important matters to attend to.

"Papa, why did you leave us again?" Helena asked, her lip trembling slightly as she leaned closer to her father from the foot of the bed.

Erik sighed, a tightness swelling in his chest. "I did not to leave you, Helena. I never enjoy having to leave my home or my family," he explained. "But there was something I had to do, something important that I had to take care of."

Charles was sitting at the foot of the bed, gazing up at his father with wide eyes. "More important than us?"

"Nay," Erik shook his head. "Never think that, _nothing_ is more important than you." He looked into each of his children's eyes. "All of you, you are my _life_, you are what I live and breathe for." It pained him to have to tell them this over and over, but he knew it was his own fault. Was it a wonder that his children did not trust him completely when he went away? So many years had passed when that was all he did, and a great chasm had been created between himself and his children. It was all because of Christine that now they all realized how precious family was.

Little Sarah sat up in her father's arms and looked down at his shoulder. "Does it hurt, Papa?"

Erik smiled at his daughter and shook his head. "Nay, I will heal in no time, and before you know it, I will be chasing all of you around the castle."

The children smiled at this and a feeling of peace seemed to settle over all of them. Christine also smiled, feeling her heart warmed by the tender scene, but there was also something that burned in the back of her mind, something that Sir Erik had said…

_"There was something I had to do, something important that I had to take care of."_

What did Erik mean by that? Where had he gone? What was it that had been so important that caused him to leave as he had done…right after she had declared her love for him?

Christine swallowed hard as she remembered the morning he left; she had asked him to let her see his face, to see him beneath the mask, and her heart plummeted when she realized she had gone too far. She had always believed it was because of her, that he had left, and a part of her couldn't help but continue to believe that.

"Children?"

Christine practically jumped when Anne came up from behind her. Anne walked right past Christine and opened the door fully, revealing Christine to everyone in the room.

"Mama? How long have you been there?" Sabrina asked.

Christine's face flushed brightly, especially when her eyes caught Sir Erik's. They seemed to be fixated upon her face.

"Come, come, time for bed," Anne clapped her hands, while all of the children groaned. "Your father needs his rest and you can see him again tomorrow morning."

With another groan, the children climbed off Sir Erik's bed and followed Anne into the hallway. Before they left they gave their father a hug and a kiss to his visible cheek, before going to Christine to do the same for her. "Mama, will you come and sing to us?" Helena asked.

Before Christine could open her mouth, Erik spoke first. "Your mother and I need to talk," he explained, his voice sounding firm and…somewhat stern. Christine glanced at him and found his expression unreadable. Was he angry with her? Perhaps he was upset that she had stopped him from killing Sir Raoul? Perhaps he was still upset for what she had asked of him prior to when he had left?

Jacob was the last of the children to leave the room, however before he disappeared, Erik called out to him. "Jacob…we will talk more tomorrow, you and I."

Jacob turned and nodded his head, a small smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. The boy truly did admire his father and wanted to be like him in so many ways, anyone could see that. And Sir Erik knew that he and his son had much talking to do. But right now…he needed to be alone with his wife.

An awkward silence fell over the room after Anne shut the door, and Christine wasn't sure if she should await to hear whatever Sir Erik had to say…or if she should begin apologizing for her behavior prior to when he had left.

"This isn't the first time you and I have been alone in my chambers, me in bed due to some illness or injury," he began, breaking the silence.

Christine nodded her head and swallowed the lump in her throat. "True," she whispered. The last time had been after Sir Erik had rescued Jacob from drowning. Of course that night had ended with a fierce argument between them both. Was history going to repeat itself?

"Christine, I need to say something and I need you to hear—"

"Forgive me, Erik, please!" Christine interrupted, unable to take the waiting much longer.

Erik's brow creased with confusion. "Forgive you?"

Christine nodded her head. "Yes, for…oh for everything!" she threw her hands up into the air and began to pace about the room. "It was wrong of me to demand so much of you, to ask you so many questions, to not show some ounce of patience or understanding," she groaned. "I am happy, truly I am!" she announced, as if trying to convince them both. "We have progressed so much, you and I. I…I mean, we have…" she blushed deeply and Erik felt his body stir at the meaning of her words. "The truth is, I don't want there to be awkwardness between us," she went on, her face still red from what she had been thinking about. "I don't want you worrying on whether I will place you in an uncomfortable position, because I won't, I promise, I will not go looking for answers or pressuring you for answers any longer. I will gladly wait until you are ready."

"Christine—"

"It was wrong of me, Erik, it was wrong of me to ask you to reveal something so private and personal, to pressure you into…into…" she bit her lip, unsure exactly how to put it. She didn't want to draw attention to his mask, as she knew he was not comfortable talking about it.

Erik's eyes widened slightly at Christine's words. Was that what she was talking about? He remembered before he left for Baron de Coleville's, how Christine had asked him to trust her, to trust her completely, more than he had ever trusted anyone in his life…and reveal to her his true face.

Erik closed his eyes and groaned inwardly as he recalled the way he reacted to her request. He froze up, he had been taken aback, and no doubt, she now assumed that was the pure reason as to why he had left. But it wasn't the reason…although he had to admit to himself that yes, he did run away, but it was because he was running away from himself, and from his own insecurities, _not_ because of her.

"I did mean what I said though," Christine murmured, finally pausing her steps. Her face was burning brightly, but she knew it was important to tell him, to reassure him that her feelings were unchanged, even if he did not return them completely. "I do love you," she whispered. "And…and I am so grateful for everything you have done for me—"

"ENOUGH!" Erik bellowed. Hearing her say those sweet words, the words that had been filling his thoughts ever since he left, and that inspired such hope within his heart, were his undoing. He could not sit there one moment longer without speaking.

Christine jumped slightly at Erik's roar, and thought perhaps she had upset him. However her surprise spread when he threw the blankets back, and with a groan of strain, sat up, fully prepared to leave the bed.

"My lord!" she gasped, rushing to his side and trying in vain to keep him from getting up. "Nay, you must stay in bed, you must rest, and you can not add stress to your shoulder, you— OH!"

Her words were cut off when Sir Erik's mighty arms wrapped around her and pulled her down onto the bed, his broad body covering her. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him what he was doing, but once more, her words were cut off when Sir Erik's mouth descended upon hers, covering it with his own and robbing her of breath, as his tongue plundered the sweet secrets of her mouth, and awakened her passion once more with his kiss.

"Now…" Erik breathed, after finally lifting his head from her beautiful mouth. "I would appreciate it if you would allow me to speak," he whispered, his arms never loosening their hold around her. Christine was at a complete loss, taken by surprise by Erik's wonderful kiss, a kiss that she had been dreaming about every night since he had been away. She nodded her head to his words, and savored the wonderful feeling of being held in his arms once more.

"I did not leave because of you," his voice was soft, but firm. "I did not leave because you asked to see my face, or because you told me that you loved me."

His arms tightened around her and he pressed his body even closer to hers. "God, Christine, you…" he looked at her face, taking in its beauty, his eyes drifting to her brown hair, his fingers moving upward to caress the silken strands and brush a few stray curls from her soft cheek. "Do you not know what you do to me?" he asked, his eyes coming back to hers. "Ever since I…ever since I met you, I…you have affected me so," he murmured, his voice filled with such wonder as he gazed upon her. Christine's own eyes began to fill with tears, and she held her breath as she continued listening to his words.

"When I first heard you tell me how you felt…I…I told myself not to think anything of it, although I deeply wanted to. I wanted to believe that it was possible for such a beautiful angel like yourself to…to care for, let alone _love_, a creature like me."

Christine's hand lifted then to rest against his masked cheek, and Erik closed his eyes momentarily, feeling her warmth through the shield that hid his most terrible secret. "When you told me that you loved me again…and again…I…I still couldn't believe it! I saw the truth in your eyes, the love you spoke of…but…I knew I wasn't worthy of it."

"No Erik!" Christine had to speak; she could not remain silent any longer. "You are a good man, I've seen all the good that you have done, and you have treated me so kindly, and with such caring, and I—" Erik's fingers fell across her lips, and Christine was silenced once more, but she smiled up at him through her tear-filled eyes.

"I was afraid, Christine. Yes, the Black Knight, the scourge for his majesty's army, was afraid. What you said frightened me…because…" he took a deep breath and turned his eyes away from hers. "There is much about me that I am not proud of, a past that haunts me, that I fear will turn you away from me or at least look upon me with disgust, perhaps even fear and hatred," he closed his eyes before turning them back to her. "I was afraid that…once you learned the truth about…about everything…you would no longer love me."

"No!" Christine shook her head, and her other hand lifted until she was cupping his face, and she lifted herself off the bed to kiss him deeply, moaning as she felt his mouth respond to her kiss, opening and inviting her in as his tongue danced with hers. "_Nothing_, Erik, _nothing_…" she murmured against his mouth. "Nothing will stop me from loving you."

Her kiss told him more than words ever could, but Erik still felt doubt. He had trusted others once, but in the end, only felt the bitterness of betrayal. And while Christine was vastly different from those others…was her love strong enough to withstand the horrible truths that haunted him?

_"You must tell her, and soon. The moment you see her, you must tell her of your love."_

The words of the mysterious woman he had met on the road to Winterbourne, began to repeat in his head.

_"Once you declare your love, once you tell her, the ghosts will cease their haunting. They torment you because you feel guilt and repulsion for yourself. But her love can cleanse you of that…"_

Could it? Christine had stopped him from killing Raoul, but she had done so not for Raoul's sake, but for his own, because she knew about his ghosts, even though he had told her little to nothing. She was the one who had always shown such patience, such understanding. And she trusted him, despite the secrets that he held. _She trusted him…_

_"The two of you will be stronger and able to face whatever hardships lie ahead, if you are both strong in your love for one another."_

"Erik?"

He opened his eyes and looked down at Christine's beautiful face, turned up towards his, her eyes filled with question as they searched his own. This beautiful angel who he had found in a rose garden, covered in dirt and looking extremely out of place in the beautiful gown that she wore…and who now lay beneath him, in his arms, telling him in both word and action how deeply she cared for him…

She was his salvation.

_Remember the tapestry…remember her song. She is your maiden, who loves the grotesque ghost that you are, and somehow sees in you a knight from a fairy tale. _

"Erik?" she murmured again, biting her lip and wondering if everything was alright.

"Christine…" Erik whispered, looking down at her and feeling his throat tighten as he spoke. "Many years ago, I trusted my heart to someone, someone who I thought loved me, and…despite the years that have passed, I…I'm not sure I have ever recovered from her betrayal—"

Christine's fingers found his lips and he looked down at her in amazement as she smiled up at him through her tear-filled eyes. "Erik…I _want_ you to trust me, I _want_ you to feel that you can tell me anything. You'll never know how I'll respond until you do…_but_," she emphasized, her hands stroking both his masked and unmasked cheeks. "I would have you do this of your own free will," she whispered. "I love you…I love you with my whole heart. And I will wait till beyond forever, if you wish. But know that no matter what, I swear…I will never leave."

Beneath his mask, Erik felt a warm wetness run down his cheek. He could not recall the last time he cried…but he was sure that he felt tears sting his eyes. Not tears of sadness, but tears of hope, tears of thankfulness for God sending him such an angel…

Christine saw the tears in his eyes and smiled, knowing that his were the same as hers, her heart swelling with such tender sweet emotion for the man before her. She moved her face to kiss him once more, but was surprised when instead, she felt Sir Erik lift her up, until they were both sitting before one another. She looked at him with puzzled eyes, but her breathing stopped…when she saw him look down…and lift his hands to the back of his head.

No words were spoken. A great silence fell about the room as Christine watched Sir Erik undo the leather straps that kept his mask fastened to his head…and slowly…pull it off.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment.

There was no sound; in fact, silence itself seemed louder than anything a sound could make.

Erik had closed his eyes as he lifted the mask away, and kept them closed even after he felt the night air hit his newly exposed cheek. It was a long, terrible, agonizing wait, as he allowed her to take in, fully, his true face.

Christine's hands had risen to her heart, and she held them together very tightly as she watched Erik slowly pull the mask aside. She held her breath, awaiting the sight she would soon see, unsure exactly what she would find, summoning her courage so that she would not betray the sweet, fragile trust, he was now bestowing upon her.

Her heart ached at the sight.

The scars that covered the right side of his face stretched from his jaw all the way up to his brow. The cheek was horribly disfigured, the flesh looking sunken in. Christine felt cold tears fall from her eyes as she imagined the horrible way that scar had been formed; it looked as if a blade had dug into the flesh, and continued digging until there was no flesh left. The skin had done its best to heal itself, but little could be done. The right side of his face looked practically skeletal.

It wasn't just his cheek which had suffered, but other areas as well. A long, ugly scar stretched from the corner of his lip, all the way to his eye. The scar was a purplish shade of pink, and Christine imagined how once upon a time, it had been a horrible red. The right side of his nose had also been damaged. The right nostril had been slashed so that it went midway up his nose, and Christine bit her lip as she saw some of the bone beneath it. The same was sadly true for his mouth. The corner of his lip where she had noticed that scar had also been slashed, as if the attacker were trying to "extend" his mouth. With the mask on, she had never noticed the scar from his lip, but now with it off…she could see everything.

"I know…"

Christine looked up to realize that Erik's eyes were now open and locked on hers.

"It's hideous," he murmured, before moving his mask to cover his face once more. At least she hadn't screamed…

But Christine's hands grabbed hold of his to stop him from bringing the mask up, and Erik looked at her with question, before sucking in his own breath…as he felt her small, soft fingers…run over the scars of his face.

"No…" Christine whispered, as she allowed her fingers to touch and trace each scar, swallowing the tears that were in her throat, feeling sorrow for the man before her who had endured such pain, both from his attacker, as well as from the people who shunned him after it had happened. "It's not hideous," Christine murmured in awe.

Erik looked confused, unsure exactly what to say. How could she think such a thing? Was she lying? But her eyes locked with his, and he saw nothing but loving truth in their depths.

"It's handsome," she whispered, a blushing smile covering her face. "Just like the rest of you. Noble and handsome, dark and strong."

"Handsome?" Erik breathed. No one in their right mind would call his face handsome! Even before his face had been mangled, he was not called or considered handsome!

"Yes," Christine whispered, her fingers not ceasing their caress. "You are the man I love, Erik. And your face is the one I love. Not the mask, but your _face_."

Erik stopped breathing as she ceased her caresses, only to lean forward…and allow her soft, sweet lips, to touch the scars that disfigured him, that caused him to wear the mask.

She lingered over his cheek, allowing her lips to trace one of the scars, before sealing a kiss over the once painful wound. After a long, sweet eternity, she finally lifted her head away until she was looking at him once more. "Kiss me, Erik, please?"

Erik was frozen, he was stunned! She had just seen his face…and she had not only touched it with her fingers, but also with her lips! And now…_now_, after everything, she was asking for him to kiss her!?

"Please?" she whispered again, her arms twining around his neck. "Kiss me as you have done before…but without your mask? Kiss me with the face of my husband, the man I love?"

_"The two of you will be stronger and able to face whatever hardships lie ahead, if you are both strong in your love for one another."_

The woman had been right. And he had to make it right.

"Yes, Christine, I will kiss you," he moaned, wrapping his arms around her and lowering her back down upon the bed. "But before I do…" he whispered, his breath touching her face, his lips only a few inches away. "I must tell you something…"

Christine waited, her eyes locked with his, her chest rising and falling with each breath, awaiting his kiss, and awaiting his words.

"I love you, Christine. I have loved you since…since I met you, I think. But I was afraid to allow myself to love, afraid until…until a maiden found her knight in the scarred body of a ghost."

"Erik!" she joyfully cried, before his lips captured hers in a long, sweet, passionate kiss, that began to grow more and more as it deepened, until it kindled to wildfire…

Just like their love for one another.


	35. Erik's Tale pt 1

**Summary:** The long, sad history of Sir Erik, the Black Knight, is revealed in his own words...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Erik's Tale _****_(part I)_**

Erik didn't just kiss her without his mask…

The kiss soon grew into something far more intense, far more passionate. While he kissed her, Christine's fingers never stopped caressing the disfigured flesh of his face, and Erik reveled in her touch, his body stirring more and more with every stroke. His mouth made love to hers while his own hands began climbing beneath her skirts, running along the length of her thigh, before finding her center and allowing his fingers a more intimate exploration.

Christine gasped at the touch of Erik's fingers, her head falling back in sweet pleasure as Erik's mouth began kissing down her body, gently biting the flesh on her neck, her collarbone, and the rise of her breasts. His fingers did not cease their exploration, and Christine was trembling with building ecstasy.

"Do you…" she gasped as his other hand pulled the bodice of her dress down so that her breasts were exposed. "Do you…do you think…this is wise?" Even while she asked her questions, she was already undoing the ties at his breeches. "I mean…your shoulder…?"

Erik groaned and buried his head in the valley between her breasts. "Christine…" he growled, making her body shiver with pleasure. "The _best_ thing for me right now…the best form of medicine…is allowing me to make love to the woman I _love_."

Christine blushed deeply, but smiled at his words, before moaning in pleasure as his lips found one of her nipples, and he began suckling hungrily. Her arms wrapped around his head and she held him to her body, relishing in the feel of his fully exposed face against her skin. The scars felt rough, but it fitted him, she thought. Sir Erik was a warrior; a man who wore his battle scars like badges of victory. She knew that the scars on his face were different from the other scars that covered his body, but she loved the feel of them, she loved running her fingers over them, as she was doing now along his back, and the contrast of his rough skin to her smoother skin…Christine couldn't explain it, but the feeling was thrilling and erotic, and she loved it.

Erik's mouth rose from her breasts to once more kiss her lips, his own hands moving down to help her with removing his breeches and freeing his aching hardness. The second his breeches had been pushed down, Erik wasted no time. His tongue plunged deeply into Christine's mouth while his cock plunged deeply into her body. Christine moaned and wrapped her legs around Erik's waist while his powerful arms lifted himself just slightly off her body, allowing his thrusts to move in deeper, giving them both more pleasure as they made love.

"God, Christine!" Erik growled, closing his eyes to the sweet pleasure, his body growing more and more tense with every stroke. "Christine…so good!"

"Erik!" Christine gasped, her hands gripping his forearms, her body rising off the bed to each thrust he gave her, her own passion, her own need building more and more. They both needed this release, and quickly! "Yes…Erik…Erik!"

With a roar, Erik's body surged deeply into hers and Christine threw her head back as the passion took hold of them both, leaving them panting and trembling in each other's arms. It had been fast and hard, not at all gentle. But it was what they both had needed, what they both had wanted in that moment.

Erik groaned and gently rolled himself off Christine's body, yet his arms never released her, and Christine snuggled her head in the crook of his arm, kissing his chest and purring softly in the aftermath of their lovemaking. "I love you," she whispered, snuggling closer to him, loving the warmth his body gave, and looking up at him with loving eyes, happy that she was facing the side of him where she could see his disfigured cheek. Was it possible to fall more deeply in love with someone, even after you had already declared your love?

Yes; for when Erik revealed to her his face…she fell more in love with him than she thought possible.

A contented smile fell across Sir Erik's face, and his arms tightened around his blushing bride. "And I love you…Lady von Desslar," he murmured, before turning just slightly so that they were facing each other. He leaned in and kissed her, and then moaned as Christine once again, began kissing his face, her lips lingering over the corner of his scarred lip, and even floating up to his disfigured nose. "Christine…" he whispered, loving the feel of her soft lips. "God in heaven!" he groaned, as he felt her tongue gently trace one of his scars, the feeling causing his spent body to grow hard once more.

Christine giggled and planted one final kiss upon his cheek, before burrowing her head against his shoulder and sighing happily. This was what she had always dreamed of, a home filled with love and belonging. She was truly blessed.

"I still can't believe it," Erik whispered in wonder. "How…how you…how you do not even _flinch_ at the touch of my body…let alone at the sight of it."

Christine's fingers ran over his chest and played with the dark hairs there. "It wasn't so long ago that you told me I was beautiful," she whispered. "Ever since I was child, I believed myself to be nothing, but ugly and undesirable…and sometimes I can't believe that…that you do think I'm beautiful," she blushed. "But you make me feel beautiful, Erik."

"You _are_ beautiful," Erik emphasized, his jaw tightening as he recalled Carlotta and her vile brother, standing in his home, attempting to intimidate his wife, and then learning about all the horrible things they had done to his sweet Christine when she was a helpless child. They would _pay_ for their sins, he vowed.

"It's no different then," Christine went on, lifting herself just slightly, so she could look at him. "You find me beautiful…and I find you handsome. Your scars do not frighten me…they fascinate me. They are a part of you and I _love_ you," her face grew sad then and Erik was quick to notice.

"What is it?"

Christine looked down first, before lifting her eyes to her husband's. "It's just…I…I know I don't know everything that happened to you…but…just how you were led to believe that…that you were monstrous and hideous…when you are nothing like that at all."

Erik felt his throat tighten at her words. Monstrous and hideous; those who had seen his face always thought he was hideous…but monstrous? He had earned that reputation even before he was forced to wear the mask. And…there were things about his past that one would certainly call "monstrous behavior".

"Erik?"

The Black Knight turned and looked down at his beautiful bride, who was gazing up at him with lovely blue eyes that were filled with such love, as well as concern. He had been so worried about revealing the truth to her, afraid that she would turn her back, that he would lose her love. And yet…she had proven to him what he thought would have been impossible. When he revealed to her his face, she didn't scream, she didn't run, and she didn't faint. She didn't even ask him to immediately put the mask back on! Nay…she actually reached out and touched his face, she kissed it, and then she told him she found him handsome! And she was telling the truth; it was there for all to see, like her love.

The ghosts of his past were relentless in their haunting, and he recalled how the mysterious woman on the road told him that only when he revealed everything to Christine…would they cease their torment.

Was it possible? He would never know unless he tried…

"Erik?" Christine's concern was growing. He kept looking at her, his golden eyes filled with an intense emotion that she could not understand.

"Christine," he finally answered. "I want you to know that…that I do trust you, more than anyone in this world, more than Bernard and my own men."

Christine was deeply moved by his declaration. "I treasure your trust just as I treasure your heart," she whispered, her hand moving until she found his and laced their fingers together. She knew that Sir Erik had tasted the bitterness of betrayal by many, and that trust did not come easily for him. For him to tell her that he trusted her above anyone else…words could not describe the honor he was bestowing upon her.

"I know," Erik murmured, gazing down at her with love and wonder. "And…I know that you have been patient with me, patient in your understanding, when I have done little to reassure you."

"Erik—"

"But," he interrupted, placing a gentle finger against her lips. "On my way back from my travels, I met a very wise woman, who kindly offered me supper before continuing on my journey. And…she said something to me that made me realize…by leaving you in shadow, by keeping my secrets hidden…I am not protecting you, I am actually throwing you into harms way."

Christine bit her lip as she listened to Erik's words. Indeed, one could say she was risking much when she had gone to see Elizabeth's parents. She only wanted to learn more about her husband, to help him with protecting their children, and it seemed that she was doomed to search for answers on her own.

Yet after everything that had happened tonight, Erik telling her that he loved her and trusting her with revealing his face…perhaps he was also ready to trust her with all his secrets?

"It's not an easy story," Erik sighed, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling of his chambers. "It's long and…filled with many things that I am not proud of…yet, it will explain much…and tell you how I came to be as I am."

"You are the man that I _love_," Christine emphasized, wanting to make that very clear. No matter what he told her, she would not stop loving him. "And I will stay with you for as long as it takes…and I will remain quiet and not interrupt, unless you wish for me to say something," Christine whispered, her hand squeezing his.

Erik lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers, before resting her hand once more upon his heart. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Very well. I think I'll begin by telling you about…how I met Sir Raoul…"

* * *

_I came to live with my father when I was four years old. I quickly learned that I was different from other children; the servants whispered about me, looked at me strangely, and now and then I would hear the word 'bastard' repeated, over and over. I soon came to realize that I was not my father's only child, that there had been others, and that my mother had not been the only woman he had known. I remember him taking me to a portrait hall in the castle, and showing me a painting of his wife, and then another of his two daughters, who had died years before I was born. He explained to me that he had never married my mother, that she was not his wife, and therefore people would look down upon me and treat me differently. Keep in mind that I was four when I learned all this, and it was very difficult for any child of that age to understand. But I did understand, or did not long after he told me. It now made sense why people looked at me strangely, why they whispered about me. In the eyes of the world around me…I was something bad._

_Yet my father did all that he could, I never wanted for anything. The servants quickly came to accept me, or at least to tolerate me, knowing that they would have to face the wrath of my father if they didn't. My father was a very present part of my life. He was determined to make me his heir, even though by law it was illegal. He taught me to read, himself. He hired several outstanding tutors to see to my studies, and before I was seven, I could read, write, do various forms of mathematics, and speak several languages. He also saw to it that I learned about the stars and the heavens, about nature and farming, religion and theology, and when I was eight, he placed some of the castle's financial responsibilities upon me. He was determined to see that I had the best education that any legitimate son of a nobleman could have. And on top of my studies, he also taught me how to use a sword, shield, lance, to ride a horse, to joust, and even how to make strategic battle plans. I learned all these things before I was ten years old…and it was at that age, that I began my formal training._

_My father petitioned to the King that I learn, formally, how to become a knight, that I be granted permission to begin school. At first, I did not think it was possible; I knew what I was, and I appreciated everything my father was teaching me, but I did not think it was possible that someone like me would be allowed to participate with other boys who were all of noble birth, legitimately. But I quickly learned another lesson; the lesson that wealth and titles could take you far…but not as far as one could go with special connections. And my father was the King's favorite knight…so much to my surprise, I was granted permission, and told to report to the school within the following week._

_Truth be, I did not wish to go. I was afraid of how the other boys would respond, once they learned the truth about who…and what, I was. But my father took me aside and told me something that I consider to be the greatest lesson he could ever have taught me…_

"Erik, the world is filled with many kinds of people, people who have many different thoughts and opinions. Some of those people will hate you and not even give you a reason as to why. They may hate you because they feel that you did not earn the right to be where they are. That is envy, pure and simple. They may hate you because you succeed where they did not. That is wounded pride, pure and simple. And they may hate you because of what you are, that they are supposed to hate those who are different from themselves. That is ignorant prejudice, pure and simple. No doubt you will go to that school and make enemies and meet some of these very people. But you cannot allow them to win, my son. YOU have a right to be there, even if they and many, many others say you do not. You are MY son, Erik, and I have always been proud to call you mine. Stand tall, hold your head high, and should they spit upon you, you punch back. If they growl against you, you roar back. Everything they do to you, you do back to them ten fold. Because you will have to _show_ them that you belong there, for trust me, they will not listen to your words. It's sad when a man must use his fists and his strength to gain respect…but it is because of them that you must. And you have more than strength and skill on your side; you also have vast knowledge, great intelligence, and a better understanding of the value of what it means to be a knight. That is what I have been training you for, my son. For when you go to that school…you will have already succeeded, where they are just beginning. You will already be…a man."

_My father was not wrong, I did indeed face those very hardships while at school. But as I look back, I am grateful for them. It was at school that I learned how to defend myself, to stand up for myself, and as my father told me, to hold my head high. By the time I was twelve, I could easily beat anyone in a fist fight. Yet that did not seem to stop the bullying..._

"Hey!" a boy shouted, pointing an accusing finger in Erik's direction. "Bastard! Get away from my horse!"

Erik's jaw tightened at the boy's words, but he did not step away. He was going to give the boy the chance to back down, before he had to do anything.

"I said get away from my horse!" the boy shouted, this time stalking over to where Erik stood, fully prepared to push him away. "Are you deaf? I told you step back! I don't want your disgusting hands all over my horse—"

Whatever else the boy was about to say was robbed from him, when Erik grabbed hold of the boy by the collar of his tunic and actually hoisted him up off the ground.

"You don't deserve a fine animal like this," Erik growled. "I saw you beat it with a switch the other day simply because it wouldn't come when you whistled!"

A small crowd was gathering around the stable entrance, and the other boys started shouting, cheering, and jeering while Erik held the shocked boy high off the ground. "I…I…p-p-put me down!" the boy wailed, his feet dangling as if trying to walk on air. "HELP!" he screamed, tears rolling down his face while Erik continued to growl and shake him. "HELP ME, PLEASE!"

Erik wanted to pummel the boy for so many reasons. He was used to the name-calling and the bullying, but Erik could fend for himself, as all the other boys were quickly learning. It was seeing someone who had power, and who knew of the power that they wielded…use it to harm another creature, especially one that was physically weaker. Truly, that made his blood boil.

The horse that Erik had witnessed the boy beat, was very old, far too old to ride off into battle as it perhaps once had done. The poor creature had several severe cuts on its hide due to the boy's ruthless switch, and Erik had gone to the stables to help soothe the animal, and put some balm upon the animal's wounds, just like the stableman at Winterbourne did for his father's horses. The boy must have seen Erik, and chose to stir up some trouble.

Bad idea.

"Pleeeeeeeeeease…" the boy wailed, his voice nothing more than a pathetic sob. "P-p-put me down!"

"ERIK!"

Erik closed his eyes and summoned his patience as he heard the stern voice of one of his teachers.

"PUT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW!"

The weeping coward he was holding disgusted Erik, anyway. Without another word, he dropped the crying boy, who immediately scrambled away from him, his hands covering his eyes as he wailed to the teacher's side.

"I am SICK of seeing you start fights!" the teacher growled, marching over to where Erik stood and shaking a finger into the boy's face. Erik wanted nothing more than to grab the old man's finger and break it…but he summoned his patience and held his rage in check. "Fifty lashes for your insolence!"

The other boys began whispering amongst themselves, but Erik simply stood right where he was, his head held high, his chin lifted, just as his father had taught him. He refused to show any fear.

"It's not his fault!"

Everyone, including Erik and the teacher, turned to find a young, blonde-haired boy emerge from the crowd, looking slightly unsure of himself. "He…he wasn't doing anything wrong…William started it," the boy explained, his voice growing softer and softer as everyone's eyes stared at him.

The teacher, however, was not convinced. "Really? If William started it, then why was he the one being held off the ground!?"

"It's true, Sir Richard!" came another voice. Erik recognized that voice, and smiled at the sight of Bernard, his…well, in truth, his _only_ friend. None of the other boys would have anything to do with Erik, they all knew about his heritage. When they had to partner up for jousting and sword practice, Bernard was the only one who willingly would do so. Even though Erik always wore a daunting expression, he was glad to have at least one friend at school.

Sir Richard rolled his eyes at Bernard's words. "You think I'm going to believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Bernard? You're always defending him!"

"B-b-but it is true!" the blonde-haired boy piped up again, trying to find the courage to stand his ground and speak his mind.

Sir Richard lifted a gray eyebrow at the boy's words. "So you've grown a spine then, eh Raoul?"

The boy's face flushed a bright shade of red, but he took a deep breath and squared his small chest. "William beat his horse yesterday. Erik was just trying to help the animal…and William tried to pick a fight."

"It's true!" Bernard added. "He took a switch to the animal because it wouldn't come when he whistled!"

Sir Richard didn't like Erik; he didn't think it was right to have the illegitimate son of a nobleman at a school for young knights. However, one thing Sir Richard despised more was the mistreatment of horses, and the second he heard this news, his eyes widened and his head whipped in the direction of young William, who was still crying from earlier. "Is this true, boy!?" William wailed and turned on his heel and ran away, while Sir Richard let out a mighty curse and chased after the cowardly boy. The rest of the crowd burst out laughing and quickly dispersed, wanting to see Sir Richard throttle the blubbering boy.

Bernard grinned and rushed over to his friend's side. "Ha! William will get what's coming to him, Sir Richard will see to that!"

Erik nodded his head, although he was still fuming over the accusations placed upon him by his teacher, as well as William's cruelty to the horse. His golden eyes locked with those of the blonde-haired boy who had spoken up for him and defended him. He didn't know the boy very well; he was not one of the boys who tried to bully him. The blonde-haired boy was a little smaller than the other boys, but then all the boys were smaller than Erik, who towered over all of them, despite his young age. "Do you know him?" Erik asked Bernard, tilting his head in the direction of the blonde-haired boy, who had now rushed off to join the crowd.

Bernard followed Erik's eyes. "That's Raoul, son of the late Baron de Chagny. His father died just before he came to school. He has an older brother who is now the current baron, but rumor has it that Raoul's father squandered most the of money on gambling and his mistresses, so there's very little left. And he being a second son…well, being knighted is about the best thing that he can hope for."

Erik nodded his head. That was another reason he was glad Bernard was his friend, Bernard knew how to listen and gather information about everyone he met. Bernard was the son of a wealthy merchant, but by no means would he ever become anything like Lord Edwin, Erik's father. Bernard was training to become a knight, however he seemed to be grounded in realism more so than anyone else his age, and knew that the best he could perhaps expect was becoming a knight's square or steward. He always joked that when Erik was knighted, he would serve as Erik's steward. That is, of course, if Erik lasted through school.

"Is he bullied?" Erik asked. "He just seemed so…out of place? Yet I saw the courage in his eyes, as if he were taking a stand for the first time."

Bernard shrugged his shoulders. "I confess I haven't paid attention to how he is treated by the other boys. I think he finds comfort in going along with the crowd; I don't think he cares to stand out. Therefore, I think you're right; I think this was the first time he took a stand."

Erik nodded his head. "Well, he didn't have to do what he did…but I am grateful to him." Perhaps it was possible for him to find another friend in this hellish place?

_It was soon learned that if anyone tried to challenge me, they would emerge from the challenge with more bruises than they possibly dreamed. Sometimes I was caught by my teachers, and given unfair punishments. Sir Richard was just one teacher who forever held a grudge against me, and who often times turned a blind eye to what the other boys had done. Only the truly stupid ones continued in their efforts to bully me, but it always ended the same; they would run away crying, their noses bleeding, their eyes swollen, and sometimes with teeth missing…and eventually, as the years went by, the bullying towards me ceased._

_But that was when they chose to attack Raoul. He was smaller than most of them, despite his age, and news about his father's dwindling fortune spread like wildfire amongst the gossip hounds who spoke of such things in the presence of children, thinking we were not listening, when in truth we were. The teachers also didn't care for Raoul, because of his father's poor finances. Therefore, he became easy prey for the cruel and mean-spirited._

"Hey de Chagny!" shouted a boy from across the school's courtyard. "I challenge you in our sword tournament today!"

Raoul's face went pale at the boy's words. He was nearly fourteen, but one wouldn't think it by looking at him. He was small in stature and muscle, and he struggled with lifting a sword, let alone fighting with one.

The boy who challenged him began to laugh maliciously, and was soon joined by his friends. But before Raoul could even respond, another voice snarled above the laughter.

"He's fighting me."

Raoul gasped and looked over his shoulder at Erik, his face paling even more.

The boy who had challenged Raoul tried to stand his ground and look brave, when in truth he was no different than the other bullying cowards. "I challenged him first!"

"I challenged him this morning, at breakfast," Erik countered, his snarl growing more and more, his golden eyes glaring directly into the other boy's eyes, as if daring him to hold the stare.

"T-t-that's not true!" the boy argued, although his voice was growing weaker by the minute.

"You're calling me a liar?" Erik asked, taking a thunderous step toward the boys, who all took a quick step backward.

"No, of course not!" the boy gasped, looking to his friends for support, but they were all backing away, willing to leave their so-called "friend" at Erik's mercy.

Erik simply leaned in and let out a long, low growl, a sound that startled all of the boys, especially since Erik was the first amongst them all to have his voice change. The boy gasped and his face went bright red…as he looked down to realize…that the front of his breeches were now wet.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Erik roared, and the boy didn't have to be told twice, he turned on his heel and ran in the direction his friends had gone, each wailing for one of the teacher's to come to their rescue. "Cowards," Erik muttered under his breath, before turning to face the small blonde-haired boy, who was standing completely still and staring at Erik with wide, confused eyes.

"I…I…" Raoul swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "V-very well," he said, lifting his trembling chin. "I…I accept your c-c-challenge."

Erik did his best to hide his amusement. He was only trying to help Raoul, knowing that those boys simply wanted to bully him. But as he looked into the hazel eyes of the small boy, he saw a fire hidden in their depths, a yearning to be taken seriously. Not to be seen as the small boy from the destitute family…but as a would-be knight who could wield a sword like the greatest warrior. And even now, this boy who Erik easily towered over…stood his ground and accepted the challenge, even though Erik knew that Raoul's skills with a sword were deeply lacking.

"I'm Erik, the son of Lord Edwin von Desslar," Erik greeted, extending his hand in friendship.

Raoul's eyes went wide at the civil introduction. "I…I know who you are," he murmured, in a slightly confused tone.

Erik cocked a dark brow at the small boy. "Many people do, it seems. And do you also share their views and have a problem with a bastard in your school's midst?" He needed to know now, for certain, whether this boy was going to be his enemy…or could perhaps be his friend?

Raoul, however, quickly shook his head. "Nay! I did not mean—" he paused and took a deep breath. "My sister, God rest her soul, was…was born from a woman, who is not my mother," Raoul whispered, looking down at his feet. "She…she died just before I went to school. She caught the same fever my father had, the same fever that killed him," he explained. "Her mother died giving birth to her, and my father brought her to live with us, despite my mother's protests. She and I were very close in age, and she quickly became my best friend."

Erik was surprised by Raoul's openness. The boy had obviously chose to tell Erik this story because he wanted to show Erik that the fact that he was illegitimate, didn't matter to him.

"My mother died giving birth to me, too," Erik explained. "I never knew her. But my father tells me she was very beautiful."

An awkward silence seemed to pass between the two of them, and Raoul was the first to finally break it. "I'm Raoul, son of the late Baron Claude de Chagny."

Erik nodded his head. "I'm sorry to hear about your father…and your sister."

Raoul bowed his head slightly, a gesture of thanks for Erik's condolences. He then leaned in and whispered, "d-d-did you mean it? About challenging me for the sword fighting tournament?"

A large grin broke out on Erik's face. "I do now," he chuckled. "I've watched you in class; you have the footing right, you just need some work with the sword, itself."

Raoul blushed brightly. "I…I'm not very strong," he whispered, looking down at his feet.

"But you will be," Erik said with determination. "You and I will be partners from here on out. Not just in sword fighting, but also in jousting and other sports."

Raoul's eyes went wide. "B-b-but what about Bernard? He's your friend, and—"

"Bernard is my friend," Erik stated. "And because he is, he will understand."

Raoul still didn't look sure. "I…I appreciate what you're offering, but…I don't want to be pitied—"

"I'm not pitying you," Erik answered honestly. He hated it when people pitied him because of his heritage. "I mean what I say; I think you have great potential to be one of the best knights in this whole school. You just need some extra training, and a partner who cares more about seeing you succeed, than in making you look foolish."

Raoul narrowed his eyes, but Erik could see hope within their hazel depths. "And…you think you can help me? You think I truly can become great?"

"Absolutely," Erik grinned. "So what do you say? Partners?" He held his arm out, waiting for Raoul to make his decision.

Raoul looked down at Erik's extended arm, then back up into Erik's strange, golden eyes. "Partners," he confirmed, before grasping Erik's forearm and shaking it heartily.

_And that was the beginning of our friendship. From that day forward, Raoul and I were partners in every task that we were assigned. It took some time, and much patience on my part, but eventually, Raoul was able to strengthen his upper body so that he could lift and swing the sword with ease, as if he had been born doing so. He also grew in strength in other areas as well, such as jousting, archery, and horse riding. And if any of the other boys tried to bully him, he was now able to hold his own in a fight. Indeed, Raoul and I became the best of friends, despite the hardships that surrounded us._

_His older brother, the current Baron de Chagny did not care for the fact that his younger brother was associating himself with a bastard. Raoul's brother wrote many letters of complaint to the school, demanding that the teachers keep us separated, but often the school refused to listen, writing back and complaining that he, the baron, had several high debts to pay when it came to Raoul's schooling. One time, when we were both sixteen, Raoul's brother came to the school, fully prepared to remove Raoul himself, or at least to threaten him to stay away from me. But Raoul…he was not the boy that his brother knew. With Raoul's training, Raoul was also growing in strength, and he was no longer the small boy that everyone teased. When his brother confronted him, Raoul stood his ground and argued back, saying that he would choose his friends, that his brother was not the master of him, especially while he was at school, and then the argument became uglier, as Raoul's brother brought up Raoul's beloved half-sister, claiming that it was because of her that Raoul felt sympathy for all bastards._

_Raoul's brother went flying backwards from the strength of Raoul's punch. I had been standing behind a corner, listening to the whole argument, and actually had to rush forward and hold Raoul back from beating his brother further._

_The Baron de Chagny rose to his feet, spat blood upon the ground and snarled that as far as he was concerned, Raoul was dead to him. He would be sure that the limited funds he was sending the school would be stopped right away, which meant that Raoul would be forced to leave. Raoul was still trembling with rage long after his brother left, but he said he had no regrets, he truly felt he had proven his manhood that day._

_I knew, however, that the school would force Raoul to leave; they had been looking for excuses to getting rid of both of us for years! And it was because of me that Raoul would be forced to leave. I couldn't allow that to happen, so I wrote to my father, begging him to pay for Raoul's schooling, even to the point where he could stop sending funds for me. The only reason I was in that school was because the King favored my father, and it was through the King's command that I be allowed to stay. But I was what I was…a bastard. And there was little hope for me in becoming a knight of the realm. No, it was better that my father put his money towards a man who could use it, who would truly benefit more from being a knight, than myself._

"Erik!"

The young man lifted his head at the sound of his name. Bernard burst into the stables, panting and gasping for breath. "I…I…I've b-b-been looking everywhere for you!" he gasped, his hands clasping his knees as he bent over to better catch his breath. "You're…you're father is here, w-w-waiting…in the great hall."

Erik's eyes went wide at Bernard's words. His father? He had written to his father nearly a fortnight ago, asking him to stop the funds for his training and education, and continue them for Raoul. Erik was expecting a reply…just not in the form of his father actually being there!

Erik closed his eyes momentarily and summoned all the patience he could muster. He knew his father would not be pleased by his request, however he could only imagine how angry his father must be to have traveled all those miles to his school.

"Bernard," Erik sighed, putting down the brush he had been using to groom his horse. "If I do not see you after this day…I want you to know that it has been an honor to have your friendship."

Bernard looked puzzled by his friend's words, but before he could ask what Erik meant, the tall, dark-haired boy exited the stables, going directly to the school's great hall.

Lord Edwin was pacing, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He only lifted his head when he heard the door open, and his glowering face seemed to darken even more at the sight of his son. It always amazed Lord Edwin how quickly his son had grown; the last time they had seen each other was during the Christmas holidays, and he swore Erik had grown several more inches since. His son had always been a large boy, tall and broad-shouldered, but now, nearly at the age of seventeen, Erik towered well over all the other boys and half of the teachers. Indeed, Lord Edwin discovered _he_ would have to look up to meet his son's eyes.

"Father," Erik greeted with a bow of his head.

"Son," Lord Edwin crisply replied, his pacing coming to a full stop. The old man squared his shoulders and bore his eyes directly into those of his son's. Erik also adopted the same pose, clasping his hands firmly behind his back, standing straight and tall, his head held high, and his eyes focusing directly on the space just above his father's head. He knew that in moments like this, it was best to not meet his father's eyes.

"Well, I received your letter," Lord Edwin grumbled. "And I won't deny…it came as a great shock to me."

Erik said nothing; he knew that when his father wanted a reply, he would say so.

"I don't think you realize," Lord Edwin continued, his voice growing lower with each word. "What…what I have _done_ to secure you a place in this school!" Without warning, the old man stalked forward until he was mere inches away from his son's face, his finger pounding into Erik's chest. "Do you know how difficult it was, Erik, to see that you received this education? To see that you had the same opportunities as the sons of other nobles?"

Erik continued to keep his mouth closed, although his jaw was beginning to ache from clenching it so tightly.

"I am the King's favorite knight! I have served both he, and his father, quite loyally! And even with his majesty's favor, it was still difficult in securing you a place in this school!" Lord Edwin bellowed. "By God, Erik, I will not see you throw your opportunities away for some…some…some peasant boy!"

Erik could not remain silent any longer. "Raoul is not a peasant boy, he is the son of Baron de Chagny! And he deserves a place here just like—"

"I know all about Baron de Chagny," Lord Edwin grumbled, cutting Erik off completely. "I am no saint, to be sure, but I always put my children ahead of me! Baron de Chagny cared for no one but himself, and sadly, your friend must suffer because of his foolish mistakes—"

"And you think that's fair?"

Lord Edwin groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Life is not fair, son. In my eyes you are my heir, but in the eyes of the law—"

"Father, forgive me for what I am about to say, but you are a fool and no different from the rest of them."

Lord Edwin was stunned into silence by his son's words. He stared at Erik with a mixture of confusion, shock, and insult.

Erik saw his opportunity to speak and took it, knowing that it was indeed a rare moment, when his father was stunned speechless. "Father, from the day you brought me to Winterbourne, you have been preparing me for the life of a knight. And I am grateful for all the lessons you have taught me, and believe me when I also say that I am grateful for the sacrifices you have endured to see that I receive this formal education and training. But one lesson that I have learned, and that is a lesson that I have learned through simple observation, is that knights are called to protect, to defend, and to give up their lives if need be, for the sake of others." Erik lowered his eyes then, until they were locked with his father's. "Raoul is a good man. He has grown more than anyone at this school; when I first met him he was a small boy who could barely lift a sword…but if you look at him now, you would not believe that were possible. His skills have greatly improved; he can even best me on occasion. He studies hard, he trains hard, and he is perhaps one of the most passionate people I know when it comes to wanting to be a knight. It's not right that he should suffer in the wake of his father or his brother's foolishness. It's not right that someone who deserves to be here more than anyone else should be forced to leave. And if the only way to see that he can stay is for someone like myself to step down…then I will do so."

Lord Edwin's face paled at his son's words. Erik was telling him that he would allow Raoul to take his place! That he would give it to him! He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud, "NO! Erik you can't, I won't let you!"

Both Erik and Lord Edwin turned their heads to see a tall, semi-muscular boy, with long blonde hair, hurry into the room, his hazel eyes wide with disbelief. "You can't do this, Erik! I refuse to take your place!"

"Raoul, be silent!" Erik hissed. His father did not need to be convinced to not support his friend.

Lord Edwin's eyes narrowed. "So you're de Chagny's son?"

Raoul swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head, before bowing before Lord Edwin, then lifting his head and holding it high. "I am. I am Raoul de Chagny, son of Baron Claude—"

"Yes, yes, enough with the formalities," Lord Edwin groaned. He eyed Raoul, sizing him up, trying to see if the lad was worth all this trouble his son was causing him. "How do you fair with a sword?"

"I told you, Father, he is one of the best—"

"I wish to hear from the boy's lips, Erik," Lord Edwin growled, cutting his son off and giving him a look of warning. "Now lad, answer my question," he commanded, looking back at Raoul once more.

Raoul lifted his chin, adopting the same stance his friend had made. "I have been told I fair very well, my lord."

Lord Edwin cocked a silver brow at Raoul's answer. "Aye, but what do _you_ say?"

Raoul looked directly into Lord Edwin's eyes. "I would say I fair very well, my lord."

Lord Edwin glanced at his son. "Erik says you can best him. Is that true?"

Raoul glanced at his friend. "I have bested him on a few occasions, my lord, although I can not deny that he truly is the best here."

Lord Edwin seemed pleased to hear this. "I started training Erik when he was four years old. It's good to hear that all those hours of training, long ago, weren't wasted." He approached Raoul until he was but a foot away from him, and looked directly into the boy's eyes. "So tell me, lad, why should I see to your financial support?"

Raoul's eyes went wide momentarily, and he glanced at Erik, who's gaze was unreadable, before finally answering. "My lord…I am completely taken surprise by all this. I did not know of Erik's request to you, and I will not deny that I am embarrassed by it," he truthfully answered, his face turning red. "However…I know that it was meant with good intentions…and if our situations were reversed, I do believe I would have made the same request. But to answer your question, my lord, the truth is…I don't deserve the support."

"Raoul—"

But Lord Edwin lifted a hand to silence his son. He wanted the boy to finish.

"I have grown in my training, I do study hard, but am I worthy to take another man's place, especially a man like your son who is the best here? Nay, I think not. Erik has had to fight more adversity than I because of his heritage. Erik has had to prove himself more than I because of it, as well. And he has. He has proven to both the other students, and all the teachers here, that he is a man worthy of the title of Sir. And while we both have trained hard and have worked hard to reach that position…he has worked far harder, in my opinion…and therefore deserves it more," he smiled at Erik then, before turning his eyes back to Lord Edwin. "Therefore, my lord, if one of us must step down for the other to succeed…then I will do that, gladly. And if Erik even attempts to step down so that I may receive the funds you are giving on his behalf…then I will see to it that all the money is returned to you, and still step down."

Lord Edwin assessed the boy and then glanced back at his son, who was staring wide-eyed at Raoul. No doubt Erik had not expected Raoul to say what he did. "So…unless the _two_ of you can finish your formal schooling and training…neither one of you will do so, on your own?"

"Aye, my lord," Raoul answered first. Erik still looked surprised by everything his friend had said, and could only nod his head to his father's question.

Lord Edwin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Very well, then. The only answer here is to see that both of you can remain…and supply funds for you both."

Both Erik and Raoul's jaws fell open. Lord Edwin could not help but grin at their stunned expressions. "You are not at all like your father, Raoul…and trust me, I mean that as a compliment."

Raoul could only nod his head, still surprised by what Lord Edwin had just announced.

Erik grabbed hold of his father's arm and turned the old man to face him. "But…but Father, the expenses—"

"I will manage it, besides…the two of you have but one more year left, before you join the King's army. And I must say…both of you have reminded an old man what being a knight truly is all about," he smiled warmly at both boys, before patting Erik on the shoulder, and turning and leaving the two of them in the great hall.

But Erik still could not believe it. He chased after his father, out into the courtyard and watched as the old man slowly mounted his horse. "My bones do not seem to agree with the saddle," he groaned as he settled himself atop the animal.

Erik knew that his father's age was catching up with him, and that his health was starting to fail him. Perhaps he had only made things worse, but adding this stress upon him? "Father, I—"

"Erik, 'tis done, nothing more needs to be said," the old man smiled. "You have a good friend there. 'Tis rare for a man to find a friend who will not only stand by you, but also willingly step down for you. Such loyalty is rare, I think. And I pray that the two of you will never know the bitterness of betrayal."

Erik frowned at his father's words. He had heard his father's stories, about how some of the men he fought alongside, and who he, at the time, would have trusted his life upon…had, in the end, betrayed him in the name of pride, greed, and envy. It was hard for Erik to imagine Raoul doing such a thing to him, especially after the way Raoul had stood up for him just then.

"The next time the school has a holiday, I want you to come back to Winterbourne," his father commanded. "There is someone I wish for you to meet."

Erik saw the mischievous gleam in his father's eye and held back his groan of annoyance. "Another mistress already, Father?"

"She is unlike the others, my son," Lord Edwin grinned. "A beauty beyond comparison. I want you to meet her as soon as you can, especially before you go off to join the King's army."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Why does it matter that I meet her? She's your mistress."

"Her name is Beatrice," Lord Edwin said proudly. "And it would give me great pleasure to introduce her to my son, who I am very proud of."

_I did not know at the time that my fate had been sealed in that moment. I did not realize that when my father had said that name, that I was doomed. I also did not fully understand my father's wise words, when it came to Raoul. I was young, and while I always thought myself a good observer, a good listener…I quickly learned that I was not always the best judge of character._

"Bernard!" Raoul shouted, as he finished putting the last of his supplies around his horse's saddle. "Where's Erik? Have you seen him?"

Bernard sighed and shook his head. "Nay, the last I saw him was but five days ago! Just before he left to see his father at Winterbourne."

Raoul's brow creased with worry as he looked out to the winding road ahead. "The King has summoned all new soldiers to meet at the village of Tulane by tomorrow evening. We're moving out within the hour!" Raoul knew that if Erik was not back before the army was called to move out, he would be immediately dismissed, which no doubt was something that all the teachers and over half of the students, were hoping. "What was so important that he had to travel all the way back to Winterbourne for?"

Bernard shrugged his shoulders. "All I know was that his father apparently wanted him to visit Winterbourne before he had to leave with the King's army. The plans had been set nearly a year ago, when Lord Edwin visited the school."

Raoul felt his stomach knot at Bernard's words. Was it possible that Lord Edwin was going to pull Erik out of school now, when they were so close to finishing? Oh God, what if Lord Edwin had summoned Erik because _he_ would have to be pulled out!? It was foolish to believe that the nobleman could afford to pay for both their schooling—

"Raoul! I think I see him!" Bernard cried, pointing towards the road Raoul had been looking down just moments before. The young man narrowed his eyes and peered in the direction Bernard had pointed, and sure enough…moving like lightning down the road, was a large, black horse, and an equally large, dark rider, atop the mighty beast. It was Erik, and as soon as he reached the gates of the school's courtyard, he dismounted and practically ran up to Raoul, nearly knocking the young man down!

"Erik!?" Raoul gasped when suddenly he felt his friend's mighty arms wrap around his body and lift him off the ground, swinging him around in a circle, while laughing the whole time. "ERIK! STOP IT!" Raoul roared, finally getting over his initial shock and pushing himself away from his laughing friend. What on earth had come over him?

Bernard looked equally confused, and kept his distance so that Erik could not do the same to him. "Where have you been? You know that we are moving out within the hour, and…why are you laughing so?"

Erik couldn't stop laughing, he had been grinning the whole time he had been riding back to the school. "The most extraordinary thing has happened!" he gasped, catching his breath and grinning from ear to ear.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Raoul asked, wondering if this truly were his friend. He was not used to seeing Erik smile so, let alone laugh.

"The most beautiful woman in the world…she exists, and her name is Beatrice!"

Bernard and Raoul exchanged concerned glances. Bernard was the first to state the obvious. "You're in love?"

"YES!" Erik roared to the heavens, grinning broadly, and before Bernard could stop him, Erik picked Bernard up just as he had done with Raoul, and swung his protesting friend around in circles.

"Good to see that you have returned, von Desslar!" barked Sir Richard, glaring at the tall, dark-haired man. "Enough with your idiotic displays! Prepare your horse, we live in but a few minutes!"

Not even Sir Richard's prejudice could bring down Erik's spirits. He put Bernard down and immediately began preparing his mount for the long journey to Tulane, while his friends watched with mutual concern.

"How did you meet this…Beatrice?" Raoul asked, folding his arms across his chest while Erik secured his supplies to the horse's saddle.

"I met her at Winterbourne, where she is staying," Erik explained.

"She is staying at your father's house?!" Bernard asked. That could only mean one thing…

"Aye," Erik confirmed. "She is his mistress."

"SHE'S HIS WHAT!?" both Raoul and Bernard practically shouted. Erik seemed so lost in his blissful discovery, that he wasn't even aware of the problem.

"Erik…you just told us that the woman you are in love with…" Raoul repeated, "is in fact, Lord Edwin's mistress?"

"Aye, for now," Erik answered.

"For now?" Bernard murmured. "You mean…she will not be Lord Edwin's mistress for much longer?"

"Exactly!" Erik bellowed, which nearly caused his horse to panic. Erik put a soothing hand on the beast's neck, before turning and facing his friends. "When I met her, I at first thought she was my father's nurse. His health, as you know, has grown poor…" Erik's smile began to disappear as he recalled how his father struggled with getting around the castle, let alone mounting his own horse. "It was easy to assume; she was by his side the whole time, and she is much, much younger than my father. But then I quickly learned that she was the woman my father had told me about, his new mistress that he wanted me to meet."

Raoul could not help but find this entire conversation strange. "Then surely…once you learned the truth as to…as to _who_ she was, surely you realized that…that you and she could never—"

"I did," Erik sighed. "Trust me, my spirits sunk faster than a rock in a pool of water. She is very beautiful, indeed. Long, red hair, that reminds me of the sunset…" Erik closed his eyes as he recalled her beautiful face. "Soft, alabaster skin…blue eyes that would rival the sea…and the way she moved, with such grace, and such…" Erik's face flushed as he recalled how he watched the sway of her hips, the movement of her legs, and the rise and fall of her breasts when she breathed. "She is exquisite. Venus, herself!"

"But Erik, what did you mean by the saying that she is your father's mistress…for now?"

Erik's smile grew more and more. "As I said, I was completely taken by her…but thought it was hopeless, that I was doomed to be entranced by her beauty while she remained with my father. However, but two days ago, while I was walking the halls of Winterbourne…she appeared from around a corner, and before I could even respond, she grabbed me by my shoulders, and threw me against a nearby wall!" Erik moaned as he remembered the sweet moment. "She took my face in her hands, and brought my head down to her lips, and kissed me in a way I never imagined!" It had been sudden and surprising, but Beatrice's kiss had left Erik numb. He had never been kissed until that moment, until her lips attacked his, and he moaned at the memory of her tongue invading his mouth. "It lasted but a few seconds…but for me, it was a sweet eternity."

Raoul said nothing; he knew that one of the mistress' of his father's endlessly flirted with his older brother. As far as he was concerned, this Beatrice didn't sound any different.

"The kiss told me everything I needed to know," Erik sighed. "She felt for me the same way I felt for her. And on the last night of my stay at Winterbourne, she cornered me once more, and before she kissed me again, she whispered against my lips how she was going to speak with my father, and tell him of her feelings for me…and that because he cared so much for her happiness, as well as for my own…that he would give us both his blessing!"

Raoul could not stand by and keep silent any longer. "Erik, how can you know that she was telling the truth? You have just met her!"

Erik frowned at his friend's words. "I tasted the truth in her kiss, I saw the truth in her eyes, and I felt the truth in my heart. After we finish our training in Tulane, I will ride back to Winterbourne to claim her."

Raoul wanted to say more, but Bernard put a hand on the blonde man's arm, a gesture that told him to hold his tongue. It was no use; Erik was not going to be persuaded otherwise, at least not at this moment. Raoul could not help but feel amazed by it all; Erik, who never seemed interested in anything other than fighting and studying to become a knight…_was in love_.

Raoul was considered by many to be very handsome, and Erik often joked that due to his "charming smile and good looks", women would be throwing themselves into danger, simply so that Raoul could come and save them. Raoul shared in Erik's laughter at the joke, but now, as Erik watched his friend continue to go on and on about Beatrice's beauty, he began to worry if Erik was perhaps…_settling?_ Erik was not considered handsome. Rugged? Yes. Strong? Absolutely. Intimidating? The question shouldn't even be asked. But Erik also would joke that when he and Raoul ventured out into the world, he would purposefully frighten the maidens with his gruff and dark exterior, so that they would fly into Raoul's arms for safety. Did Erik think that he would not be able to find love? And at the first sign of a woman showing any interest in him…that he assumed it was love and affection that moved her?

Raoul had not met Beatrice, but he already distrusted her, greatly.

"MOUNT UP!" Sir Richard roared. "WE LEAVE FOR TULANE…NOW!"

"Erik," Raoul hissed as the two of them mounted their steeds. "I am happy for you, truly…I just…I want you to be careful, that is all."

"Careful?" Erik asked, looking confused and cocking a dark brow at his friend. "Whatever for?"

"Just…I don't want you to have your hopes crushed, in case your father refuses to release Beatrice from her position."

Instead of looking pensive, Erik actually threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, so that is your concern? Do not worry Raoul," Erik grinned. "My father will do what is right, he knows what's best and has always kept my interests at heart. He will do right by me, you'll see," he grinned. "And you'll understand too, one day!" he shouted as he dug his heels into the animal's flanks. "One day you'll find love as well! And you'll see how wonderful and consuming it can be!"

_I would later regret those words. I would later regret many things I said that day…in some ways I still regret them. But I was young and foolish, and most of my life had been spent in school, I had little 'worldly' knowledge outside of what I read in books. Raoul had been the wise one, he had seen such things take place in his life; in fact, he was always offering warnings and saying sensible things when it came to women. I had always assumed it was because he enjoyed being a carefree bachelor…not because he was actually looking out for me. But he was right, and had been right about Beatrice, about not getting my hopes up. For after spending eight months in Tulane, finishing my training with the King's army, I quickly returned home, eager to learn where I could find Beatrice, thinking that she had gone back to her home, which I suspected was in Valmour. But imagine my shock…at finding her still at my father's castle…and still by my father's side. My father acted as if nothing had been spoken, and Beatrice refused to meet my eyes. The second I could get her alone, I asked her what had happened, why she was still there. Did my father refuse to release her? I was willing to go to my father and ask on her behalf, but she stopped me from doing so. She told me that she couldn't do it, that she couldn't ask, saying it was because my father had been very ill that winter, and it broke her heart to even think about breaking his. She asked for my understanding…and I gave it to her. But I would soon learn that this game was one Beatrice enjoyed playing. She was quite comfortable in her position; after all, my father was the one with the land, titles, and wealth…I was just his bastard son._

_Several occasions arose during those passing months when I was at Winterbourne where Beatrice said she would try to speak with my father, but none of them came to pass. She continued to corner me and kiss me, leave me panting for more, and promising more with her smiles and her eyes. But she always stayed close to my father's side, caressed his face, and kissed his cheek, before turning and smiling at me, as if nothing had transpired between us but a few minutes ago. The joy I had once felt was no more, and my obsession for her was destroying me. I had to get away; I could not stand to be there and to watch her pretend to care for my father, when she had told me how she longed to feel my body cover hers. I still believed that she loved me…but I felt such horrible guilt in my lust for her, knowing that my father believed she deeply cared for him. So I left…I returned to the King's army and began taking on tasks that were being assigned to different men. Anything, really, that kept me away from Winterbourne. I loved Beatrice, I wanted her so badly…but I could not stand being there._

_It was during those years that I was knighted. Both Raoul and I shared similar quests, and our leadership skills grew. Soon the King was entrusting us to lead his armies into battle. Because of our success and leadership, we were knighted…and all the hard work we had put in over the years finally came with its reward. And we could not have done it without each other…_

* * *

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath, her hands rising to brush away a few tears that had fallen during her husband's tale. She had always suspected the possibility that Sir Raoul was a friend of Sir Erik's…but she had not expected to hear how close the two of them had been, which only made the truth of the story that much sadder.

Two good friends, two friends who had stood by each other throughout all those years, who had defended one another at different occasions, and who seemed willing to sacrifice themselves for the success of the other…only to be torn apart by jealousy and greed.

"Erik…" Christine whispered, trying to control the emotion in her voice. She did not want her husband thinking that she pitied Sir Raoul. On the contrary, she pitied what had become of the man…and what had become of their friendship.

"I know," Erik whispered, squeezing his wife's hand, which was still entwined with his. "It's been years since I've even thought about it…and perhaps that was simply because I did not wish to look upon him and remember how once…he was a good friend."

Christine wiped her eyes once more, and turned her body so that her head could be pillowed upon Sir Erik's chest. She kissed the skin that covered his heart, and hugged him even closer. She knew he was by no means finished with telling her his tale, and she knew that it was no doubt only going to grow sadder. But she had promised to listen, for as long as it took, and she would be there for him, till the end.

"I soon grew a reputation for being successful when it came to surprise attacks, so the King would often give me secret missions, things that I could not share with anyone, even Raoul," Erik murmured. "I think…I think that was the beginning of our downfall."

"You don't have to continue, if you don't wish to," Christine whispered, her body pressing against his, seeking warmth from his broad frame.

Erik was grateful for Christine's words, but he knew that now that he had started…he needed to finish, and there was so much to tell. "Thank you…but too long have I kept you in shadow…as well as myself. Perhaps tonight, by telling you these stories, my ghosts can be exorcised."

Christine only hoped was right. "I love you, Erik. And I am listening."

Erik smiled softly at her sweet, assuring words. He was remembering people who had been dear to him, people he had once respected, loved, and who he had never dreamt would turn against him. It was enough to make a man believe that he could never trust anyone…

But with Christine, his sweet, loyal, strong Christine…he knew that her trust was not cheap, nor did it come with strings attached. Her loyalty was ironclad, and her love was pure. If going through all those years of torment and pain meant spending one day in her arms…he would do it all over, gladly.

"And I love you," he murmured, turning his head and kissing her brow tenderly, before taking a deep breath and continuing with his story. "I think it would be best…to tell you about Beatrice…and what became of her…"


	36. Erik's Tale pt 2

**Summary:** Erik's story continues, revealing his past with his former mistress, as well as revealing how his face came to be...(my longest chapter by far! It's a marathon read!)

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Erik's Tale (part II)_**

Christine stiffened slightly at the mention of Beatrice's name. This woman, this faceless woman who she had only heard a little about, seemed to have some sort of strange power over Winterbourne and its inhabitants.

She had been shocked to learn that Beatrice had once been Lord Edwin's mistress; she had no idea that Erik had known her for such a long period of time. And while Erik had told her, as well as shown her how deeply he loved and trusted her…there was still a part of Christine that worried that the mere memory of Beatrice, could somehow take her husband away…

Yet despite her initial fears and apprehensions, Christine hardened her heart to them, and prepared herself for the story that greatly needed to be revealed.

Beatrice had been the first to betray Sir Erik, that much Christine knew. And from the few things she had learned, Beatrice's betrayal had also been the worst…

* * *

_As I had mentioned, Beatrice was my father's mistress, and when I had first met her, I was shocked to learn this. She was much younger than my father, twenty-one to be exact. I was only seventeen, and Beatrice at first seemed flattered that she had caught the attention of a younger man. I would later learn, sadly, that she loved playing these sorts of games, but in my young, naïve state, love, or what I thought was love, blinded me from seeing the truth about the sort of person she really was._

_When she first kissed me, I was completely shocked. I knew that I was not a handsome man, and the few girls I came into contact with seemed frightened by my large size, dark looks, and gruff personality. So imagine my surprise when a woman, who I believed at the time was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, took a liking to me! I knew so little about women that I easily believed with that with one kiss, she truly loved and desired me. And that, I think was when I began to fall prey to her lies…_

_I kept waiting, hoping that Beatrice would go to my father as she had promised me, and tell him of our feelings. But it never came to pass. I told her that I would tell him on her behalf, but she begged me to not do it, afraid that my father would look upon my request as an act of betrayal, and do everything in his power to see that the two of us could not be together. And the fool that I was, I believed her._

_But I couldn't stay there, either. It was far too painful to watch her sweetly caress my father's face, or whisper something into his ear that would cause him to laugh, or even to watch her plant her sensual kisses across his forehead. I was growing jealous of my own father! And the lust that I was feeling in my own body was beginning to grow out of control…_

"Erik…"

Erik paused his movement at the sound of the voice that haunted his dreams. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to look over his shoulder to see where her voice had come from.

"Erik…" Beatrice purred, her body emerging from the shadows where she had been hiding in the hallway, a wicked smile spread across her beautiful face.

Good God, she was exquisite! The gown she wore was bright red, and it clung to the curves of her body like a second skin, leaving very little to a man's imagination. And yet the red of her gown was no match for the fire in her hair, which fell across her shoulders like a cascade of rubies. She whispered his name again, and Erik's eyes were drawn immediately to the sensual movement of her lips, lips that haunted his thoughts constantly, lips that he had kissed, lips that teased and tormented him, endlessly. He knew he should turn and go, it was always the same whenever she called out to him, whenever she pulled him into the shadows, but like a moth to a flame…he was drawn to her.

Beatrice grinned as she clutched his strong hands in hers and pulled him close, her arms entwining about his neck, her hands tangling in his dark hair as she pulled his head down to her waiting kiss. Erik groaned as once more, her lips invaded his senses and whispered promises of unbridled passion! He eagerly responded to her kiss, as he had always done, his arms wrapping around her body and pulling her so close, he was practically crushing her voluptuous figure to his chest. Oh God almighty, he could feel her breasts swell against his chest! She seemed to press them in such a way, so that he could feel the hardened buds of her nipples. Her hands slid down from his neck, and began to run over the hard muscles of his back, moving down further, and further…and he let out another groan of desire as one of her hands drifted down to his thigh…and he gasped as he felt her hand move around to the front of his body…and move beneath his tunic until she found exactly what she was looking for…

"Mmmmm…Erik, you're on fire!" she moaned against his mouth, her fingers tracing the straining hardness of his cock. "I know exactly how to quench that fire…"

Erik's eyes drifted shut as her fingers continued their torment. "Beatrice…we…we mustn't…we can't…"

"Of course we can," she purred, pressing her body even closer as her fingers began to pump an erotic rhythm over his hardness. "We don't even have to go to my chambers," she moaned, her fingers moving faster. "Right here, Erik…take me here, please…against this wall!"

Erik squeezed his eyes shut as her fingers continued their sensual torture, their rhythm only increasing with each stroke. God, it was tempting! To finally ease the lust that was tormenting him, constantly! He could do it, he could lift her up, quite easily, push her skirts up to her waist, and do exactly what she suggested! It was what they both wanted!

No…no, it wasn't what they both wanted; he wanted her to be _his_, freely. He loved his father, his father had done so much for him, and the idea of betraying him, of going behind his back and doing this…

Erik pushed himself away from Beatrice, his body still burning with unquenched desire. Beatrice looked at him, stunned by his actions, her face pale and her blue eyes wide in disbelief. "I can't…" Erik whispered, looking anywhere but into her eyes. "Not while you still belong to my father…"

Beatrice didn't know what to say. No man had EVER refused her! She opened her mouth to speak, but Lord Edwin's voice filled the hallway. "Erik? Erik, I—ah! Son, there you are!"

Erik took another step away from Beatrice and turned to greet his father, who was walking with some difficulty. The man's health was indeed worsening since Erik had seen him last, and it broke his heart to think that this once strong, powerful man, who led vast armies for the King, was slowly deteriorating.

Beatrice seemed to snap back to the present at the sight of Lord Edwin, and she immediately rushed to the old man's side, clutching one of his arms with both hands. "Edwin, what are you doing out of bed?" Beatrice softly scolded, in the sweetest of voices.

Lord Edwin eyed his mistress with surprise. "Beatrice? I did not see you! Were you and Erik talking? Did I interrupt?"

A sweet smile spread across Beatrice's face, and she looked up at Erik, her eyes shining wickedly. Erik quickly looked away, his face darkening brightly. "Father, I told you that if you wish to summon me, send one of the servants. You do not need to come and fetch me yourself—"

"I am still master here, am I not?" Lord Edwin interrupted. "I will move about as I please, and I tire of people waiting upon me hand and foot," he grumbled. "But none of that matters; what does matter is this letter that I have recently received from his majesty!" Lord Edwin thrust a small scroll against Erik's chest. "It says that you have requested a permanent commission with the King's army!"

Beatrice's eyes went wide at the old man's words, and she stared at Erik, her mouth open in disbelief.

Erik, however, straightened his back and lifted his chin. "Aye, that is true," he answered. "My training while I was in Tulane served me well, and I believe I can be a great leader—"

"Pfft!" Lord Edwin interrupted. "Of course you can be a great leader, you're my son! But that is not the point!" he growled, his face darkening as he spoke. "You have done this without even consulting me, your own father!"

"I beg your pardon, my lord," Erik growled back with a hint of sarcasm. "I was unaware I required your council, especially since you have been preparing me for such a life since the day I was born!"

Lord Edwin was actually trembling with rage, and Beatrice looked genuinely concerned. "Edwin, calm down," she murmured, trying to rub a soothing hand on the old man's chest, but it was not working.

"The letter says that you are to report in Tulane within the next two days!" Lord Edwin roared. "TWO DAYS! And you say NOTHING to me?!"

Erik glanced quickly at Beatrice and saw the horror in her eyes. His heart was heavy, as he knew he would be leaving two people that he dearly loved…but how could he explain to both of them the reason as to _why_ he must leave?

"My son, I am very proud of you, to be sure," Lord Edwin murmured, his voice much softer now, the anger giving way to melancholy. "I know that you have been training to become a knight, and by proving your worth on the battlefield, you will succeed in doing that. It's just…" he sighed and reached out to place a trembling hand on one of Erik's broad shoulders. "You have spent so many years, away at school and training with the King's army, and you have only been here for a month…I…I…" Lord Edwin's eyes rose to meet his son's, and Erik saw the tears that filled them. "Perhaps this is why many father's are not close to their sons? Because the pain of seeing them leave is unbearable."

Erik's arms ached to hold his father close, but he restrained himself, as he knew his father was also doing. He wanted to become a knight, he truly did, and he knew he would be a good fighter for the King. But the sole reason Erik was rushing off to the battlefield…was standing right beside his father.

"We'll have a feast tonight, in honor of your departure," Lord Edwin murmured, with a sad sigh. "I shall go and inform the cooks, as well as have the stable lads make ready your horse." Erik watched with a heavy heart as his father turned and hobbled down the hallway, however he did so with his head held high and his back as straight as he could make it.

As soon as Lord Edwin had disappeared around the corner, Beatrice turned and pushed her hands against Erik's chest, shoving him with all her strength. "You're leaving!?" she hissed. "Just like that, you're leaving!?"

"I have to," Erik hissed back, although his heart was breaking at the thought of leaving her. But what other choice did he have?

"I thought you loved me!" Beatrice pouted, shoving him once more, although it did little good, as Erik was too strong to move.

"I _do_ love you!" he hissed, his hands grabbing her arms and holding her still as she began to beat his chest with her small fists. "You know that! I have told you, repeatedly, that I would go to my father and ask for you!"

Beatrice's fists paused at these words. "You can't, Erik, I've told you that! If you do, he will surely think of you as a traitor and refuse to allow us to be together!"

"Then what do you expect me to do!?" he was growing angry, and trying his hardest to control his temper. He wanted her; God knew how he wanted her! But he couldn't betray his father; he couldn't lie to the man. And the longer he stayed, the harder it was to not give in to temptation…

"Erik, don't leave," Beatrice pleaded, her fingers gripping the fabric of his tunic. She pressed her body against his and Erik felt his own begin to stir, once more. "I know you don't wish to go," she purred. "I can feel your desire, I can feel your passion. It's the same as my own…" she moaned, rubbing her body against his. "We can keep it secret, your father need never know—"

"NO!" Erik pushed her away and staggered several feet away from her, needing distance between the two of them. "No, Beatrice! Not like this! I can not—I WILL NOT betray my father!"

Beatrice's mouth had fallen open once more in disbelief. "But…but Erik—"

"Nay," Erik groaned, shaking his head. "'Tis no use; I am doing the best I can with holding my desire in check, but God knows I will not last if I stay here. I must do this, Beatrice, for both of us. That way, neither of us will be the traitor."

He tried to gather her into his arms, but she refused to allow him to touch her, an angry scowl darkening her face. "You are not doing this for us, you are doing this for yourself!" she hissed. She glared at him, before turning and stalking away, muttering as she went. "You're weak, Erik! Weak and selfish!"

* * *

"SELFISH!?" Christine had bolted upright, fuming with anger at Erik's story.

Erik was taken by surprise by Christine's angered reaction, however he felt the ice that had so long encased his heart, melt even further as he listened to her outraged grumbling. Only a woman, who loved someone as fiercely as Christine, would feel such passion and outrage, from his story.

"SHE DARED TO CALL _YOU_ SELFISH!?" Christine gasped in outrage. _"YOU!?"_

"Christine—"

"When SHE is the most selfish COW on God's earth!" she practically shouted, throwing her hands up into the air, feeling such indignation. "She claimed to love you, claimed that you were the man she wanted, when in truth she didn't wish to give up her so-called comfortable lifestyle by your father's side, and used you for her own personal enjoyment—both of you, actually! And because you are an honorable man, doing what is right and noble, she has the GALL to call you selfish, because you won't do what SHE wants!"

"My love…" Erik murmured, his hands going to her shoulders and gently turning her until she was looking down at him. Christine was still fuming, but one look into Erik's golden eyes, which were filled with such tenderness…she felt her insides melt and her temper immediately calm. "You are right, and now, I know this to be true. But then, I was easily mislead by what I thought was charm, grace, and beauty."

Christine was still trembling with rage, but she allowed Erik's gentle hands to ease her back down by his side. "I just…I wish…I wish I could have—"

Erik chuckled and leaned towards her, planting a soft, loving kiss across her lips. "I know…and how fiercely I think you would have defended me," he murmured against her mouth. "My brave warrior."

Christine blushed deeply, and found herself smiling at his words. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, rather bashfully. "Please, continue."

"No apology is necessary, little one," Erik sighed as he breathed in the sweet fragrance of her hair. "I must say…I rather like seeing you so indignant; the fire in your spirit brings such a brilliance to your eyes." He found himself grinning as he watched her blush spread, thinking how beautiful she looked in simply a blush and nothing more…

But now was sadly not the time to dwell on such pleasant thoughts. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, and continued.

* * *

_It wasn't as if I was always away; I did travel back to Winterbourne when I could, but I never stayed for very long. Beatrice soon learned that she would not succeed in her seductions, so they became less and less. Yet we still shared kisses in the shadows, I continued to promise that one day, we would no longer have to hide our feelings, that no matter how long it took, I would remain true to her. As for my father, he was growing more and more restless. His health continued to worsen, and it wasn't long before all his physicians demanded that he stay in bed. Yet my father was not the sort of man who could stay still, let alone confined to one space. He would often wander the halls of Winterbourne, claiming that he was looking for someone, or traveling from one room to another…however, I began to suspect that in truth, he perhaps knew about Beatrice and myself, and was wandering the halls to catch us._

_I knew that I was already betraying my father, that by giving in to my desires to hold Beatrice in my arms and kiss her, I was betraying his trust. The thought of him catching us, of seeing us, was too much. So I left, once more, and did not return…until a messenger came to tell me he was dying._

_I was twenty-two now, and much had happened in my life. I had been knighted, and I was quickly growing in favor with the King. My father often wrote and told me of all the letters he was receiving from his majesty, about my victories and adventures, my missions and travels. He always told me how proud of he was of me, proud that I had accomplished my goals, despite the heritage that tainted my character. But the truth is, I could not have done it without him. I owe everything to him…_

_I kept constant vigil by his side, during his last days here. Before he died, he gave me several parting gifts: one was the gift of legitimacy. He had written a final request to the King, begging that the law view me as my father's legitimate son and rightful heir. The King granted my father's request, and I truly became Sir Erik von Desslar, legally. The second gift my father gave me was the very thing I had been craving for so long: Beatrice. My father revealed that he had seen the way she and I would look at each other, and confessed that since he realized my feelings for her, he did not keep Beatrice as a mistress, but more as a companion to keep him company as his health continued to fail. Looking back, it is suspicious as to why Beatrice did not reveal this to me, herself, but I was in so much shock from my father's revelation, and in such joy that at last, she and I would be together, that I didn't even think to question her. My father gave us his blessing…and then bestowed upon me, his final gift: wisdom._

_Ironically…the wisdom in which he bestowed dealt with Beatrice, specifically to not trust her completely with my heart. He explained to me that she was indeed quite beautiful, and that she would bring me pleasure…but that she was not a woman a man could marry, love, and trust. I did not understand what he meant at the time, and I did not wish to believe what he was telling me, after all, I believed I was in love, and that Beatrice loved me. Yet I know better now, much better, that he was indeed preparing me for a harsh future._

_But the future's harshness did not come right away. Beatrice and I became lovers at last, and I thought I could not be happier. She was the first woman I had ever been with, and I told her she was the only woman, the only woman I would ever love, the only woman I would ever desire. She always smiled when I said such things, and whenever we were together, she asked me to tell her, once more, how she was the only woman in the world for me. And I did, thinking it was because she loved me. _

_However, I would soon learn that she had ulterior motives._

_The first few years we were together were happy, blissful ones. I did not think anything could be better…until the wonderful day came that she told me she was with child. I soon realized that the thought of being a father, of sharing a child with the woman I loved, was the most blissful a man could be. Was it possible to know any other kind of joy?_

"I'M GOING TO BE A FATHER!"

Raoul gasped at the sound of Erik's roar and turned to stare at the sight of the giant, dark rider, galloping towards their army's encampment at full speed. Had he heard him correctly? Did Erik just say what he thought he said?

Erik leapt off the charging stallion even before the horse stopped. Raoul was prepared for Erik this time, and had his hands planted firmly upon his friend's shoulders, to keep the man from lifting him up and swinging him around, as he had once done. "W-w-what did you say?" he asked, when he was sure Erik wasn't going to grab him.

Bernard's horse quickly trotted to where they were standing. He sighed and shook his head, but couldn't stop grinning along with Sir Erik. "It's just as he said…he is going to soon be a father."

Raoul stared at Erik as if the man had grown a second head. Erik, the Black Knight, the most dreaded weapon in the King's arsenal? He was going to be…a father? "I'm assuming Beatrice is the happy mother?" he asked, trying to show happiness for his friend, but it was proving to be quite difficult.

Erik glared at Raoul for even asking such a question, before giving his shoulder a rough shove. "I don't understand you, Raoul. You've only met Beatrice once, and yet you seem determined to hold a grudge against her."

Raoul's face reddened, and he quickly looked away. Any man that dared to insult Beatrice tasted the bitterness of Sir Erik's fist…if they were lucky. Raoul often kept his opinions of his friend's mistress to himself, but it was rather obvious that he did not care for the woman.

Raoul had met Beatrice for the first…and so far, the only time, at Lord Edwin's funeral. Indeed, she was lovely, just as Erik had always described, but there was something in her eyes, something cold and bitter, and something dark and treacherous. Bernard was Sir Erik's steward, just as the two of them had always vowed, and Raoul tried to pull the man aside, and ask him what he knew about Lord Edwin's former mistress. Bernard said there was very little to tell, other than the fact that she and Sir Erik were most passionate with one another. Bernard also warned Raoul to not say anything against the woman; Erik would not stand for insults, and it was rumored that he had killed a man who had dared to say something negative against her. So Raoul took Bernard's advice, and said nothing, but during the short time he was staying at Winterbourne…he noticed a few strange things about the woman. How she constantly kept whispering things into Sir Erik's ear, how she kept looking over his shoulder whenever he read messages from his soldiers, or the King, even though she claimed she could not read. And then Raoul recalled the time he heard a sound outside his bedroom door, and he went to see what it was…and saw Beatrice, putting on a dark, hooded cloak, and disappearing around a corner. Raoul quietly left his chamber to see where she was going, and at such a late hour, but once he rounded the corner…he was shocked to find nothing but a dead end.

Was he simply imagining things? Or had it been a ghost?

"RAOUL!"

Raoul jumped at Sir Erik's bark, waking from his thoughts. Erik did have a slight look of annoyance on his face, but the annoyance quickly gave way to another smile. "Well? What do you think? Someone like myself…being a father?"

Raoul cleared his throat and put on a smile, trying to concentrate on the happiness of his friend, rather than his own suspicions. "I think you are a very lucky man," Raoul said, earnestly. "And while I have no wife or children…I have heard that they change you, and can make you a better man."

Erik nodded his head, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Aye…a better man," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Although there is some worry," Bernard piped up, as he removed several supplies from the saddle of Sir Erik's horse. "That perhaps this child will be the Black Knight's undoing? That perhaps the Black Knight will go soft?"

Sir Erik let out a mighty laugh and slapped Bernard on the back. "I know it's a hard thing to envision; a brute like myself holding a screaming child…" he paused, thinking about it. "On second thought, perhaps it's not so hard to envision? Most people do seem to scream whenever I am near," he joked. "But do not fear, my friends. I am the Black Knight, the Angel of Death for our enemies. And when I am on the battlefield with a sword in my hand…nothing will stop me from vanquishing my foes."

Raoul trembled slightly at his friend's words. It amazed him that in such a short period of time, not long after the two of them had been knighted, that his friend grew such an infamous reputation. He knew that Erik was given special assignments, secret missions to lead surprise attacks upon the King's enemies. Erik always said that if he had a choice, he preferred to lead attacks after dark, but it soon became known that no matter what time of day he led his men, no matter what weather, what season, or what environment…he was a master of stealth, and he never retreated from the enemy, he just fought harder. His dark nature, and the dark way he in which he dressed, earned him the name The Black Knight, and that name soon became a nightmare for those who invaded the King's shores.

"Well…" Raoul took a deep breath, as once more he found himself attempting to push aside the bothersome thoughts of envy that seemed to be attacking him so much whenever he thought of his friend. "I am glad to hear that you will not be going soft anytime soon. Our enemy has a reputation that is nearly as infamous as your own, Erik."

Erik's brows knitted together in confusion. "Who is it?"

"He's a pirate," Raoul explained. "A pirate who has been wreaking havoc upon the southern shorelines for quite some time."

Erik could not help but let out a laugh. "A pirate? I thought you said it was a _serious_ enemy?"

Raoul frowned at Erik's sarcasm. "He is not like the other pirates we have fought. He has destroyed villages, murdered women and children, and he once sunk an entire fleet of the King's ships! And he calls himself…The Jackal."

A chill went down Erik's spine, a feeling that greatly surprised him.

"His reputation can not be as bad as you make it," Erik growled, gripping the hilt of his sword, a sword that an enemy had called "Ghost Maker", just before Erik gutted him. The name stuck.

"What do you mean by that?" Bernard asked.

"Because my reputation is _far_ worse," the Black Knight growled, before turning to their troops. "NOW LET'S MOVE OUT!"

* * *

"The Jackal…" Christine whispered, trembling slightly at the pirate's name.

"Aye," Erik growled. "Had I known then what I know now, I would have been so arrogant and foolish."

Christine looked up at him and swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers immediately going to the scars that haunted his face. "He did this to you, didn't he?" she whispered.

Erik closed his eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. "Aye…a parting gift, as he called it. A way for me to remember him."

Christine meant what she had said earlier, about how his scars did not frighten her, how she truly found him handsome and desirable. But she knew, sadly, that she was in a minority when it came to seeing her husband like that. She knew that those scars had caused him much pain, both when he received them, and the years that followed. "Did it…did it happen on your first encounter with him?" she asked, her fingers never ceasing their gentle caress.

"Nay," Erik sighed, turning his head slightly so he could look into her eyes. "I soon learned that there would be many encounters with The Jackal, and I quickly learned how greatly I had underestimated him when we first rode into battle against the villain," his own fingers rose to brush a fallen brown curl from her cheek. "You see, I was known for being a great soldier, the greatest, actually. I never gave up, even when we were greatly outnumbered. I fought harder than anyone else, and I trained my men to fight just as hard. And while it earned me an infamous title…it also meant that I had never lost a battle," he whispered.

Christine noticed a change in his eyes; a distant look that was recalling years of struggle, obsession, and violence.

"It wasn't until I met The Jackal, that first time," he explained, "that I lost a battle."

* * *

_We lost many men that day, too many. Good men, and many of whom were my best soldiers. I thought it would be simple, that the battle would be finished within an hour. We were going to the place where the King's spies had reported The Jackal's crew storing vast quantities of stolen goods, many of which had been taken by the King's own ships. We had been told how the crew always came after dark, and only on nights of the new moon. I was an expert on sneak attacks, I believed that by the time they even realized they were under attack; over half of The Jackal's crew would be dead._

_I was wrong._

_They had been waiting for us._

_It was meant to be an ambush upon them, but in the end, it turned out to be an ambush upon us! _

_There were hundreds of them; hiding in the very caves we had suspected them to be taking their bounty. I soon realized that The Jackal did not have one ship, or two, but a whole fleet! TEN SHIPS! And each armed to the teeth with cutthroats and villains. Our numbers were larger, they had fought countless battles against such madmen, and they had years of experience and training on their side! We SHOULD have won!_

_But The Jackal's men were relentless…and I remember Raoul shouting the order to fall back, to retreat. I couldn't believe what he had just said; I never retreated! But Bernard grabbed a hold of me and with the help of five other men, dragged me away, as Raoul led the retreat._

_I never forgave him for calling the retreat; it was my belief that we would have won, that our skill would have come through and won the day if we had stayed. And…I suppose that is how my…my obsession began._

_Since that infamous battle, I was away constantly. There were other battles, other wars that I fought for the King, but every month that passed, I wrote countless letters, asking for more information on The Jackal's whereabouts, begging that the second any news was found, to have it sent to me, immediately. I vowed to the King that I would deliver_ _the villain to him, that I would defeat his pirate army and bring peace to our country's shorelines once more. Indeed, I became so obsessed…that I missed the birth of my son._

_I raced back to Winterbourne at the message that Beatrice had gone into labor; I arrived but moments after Jacob's birth, but Beatrice never forgave me for being away. That was when I began to notice the change in her. Her temper was shorter, it seemed that the smallest thing could set her anger off, and we began fighting more._

_She was upset that I was always away, leaving her alone to raise our son. I didn't want to believe it at the time, but she told me that I was obsessed with my work, that I cared more about destroying The Jackal, than about her. I wanted to prove to her that it wasn't true, that I didn't care more about defeating The Jackal than being with her and our son…so I finally did what I had been longing to do for so many years, but had been unsure how to ask; I wrote to the King, asking for permission to make Beatrice my wife._

_The irony of it all. As a bastard, nothing held me back from taking Beatrice as my wife; she was the daughter of peasants, and as far as the law was concerned, I was worthy of having such a woman be my wife. But now…now I was a noble, thanks to the King. Yet it also meant that the marriage between Beatrice and myself would not be valid. So I prayed that he would look upon me with favor as he had looked upon my father, and grant my request to marry Beatrice. _

_I prayed that the gesture alone would show Beatrice how deeply I loved her, since the King was not able to even read my request, let alone grant it, as he had far too many things on his mind. The country was at war…which meant an increase in our own supply ships…which also meant an increase in The Jackal's attacks. One such attack occurred near Winterbourne, on the country's northern shorelines. I did not even have the opportunity to rejoice in the announcement that Beatrice was once more with child. Instead, I grabbed my sword, and without telling anyone, raced to the place where The Jackal had last been seen. I was determined to stop him!_

* * *

Erik paused, his hand moving to touch his face with trembling fingers. Christine bit her lip and noticed the way he moved his hand away with disgust, upon touching the scars. He had spent so many years dealing with the pain and humiliation of his mutilated face; it would take some time, perhaps a lifetime, for Christine to convince him otherwise.

"You don't have to—"

"He was waiting for me," Erik continued, squeezing Christine's hand in his. "As if he knew I was coming, he was waiting for me, on a cliff near Winterbourne. I looked all around, but I didn't even see one of his ships. He told me he had come alone, that he wanted it to be fight just between the two of us…"

* * *

"At last…" The Jackal purred from behind the scarlet scarf that covered all of his face, save for his dark, demonic eyes. "The great Black Knight. Indeed, today will be a day that bards will sing about for years to come."

Erik growled as he drew his sword, rage boiling in his blood as he stared back at the tall, thin figure of The Jackal. This was the first time the two of them had fought hand to hand; Erik had always seen the pirate from across the battlefield on the few occasions his men had encountered the villain and his fleet, but never this close.

He was taller than Erik had expected, almost matching his own great height. Where Erik was broad and muscular, The Jackal was lean, with thin legs and arms, and Erik thought that if he caught the scoundrel, he could easily snap him in two. However, he had observed The Jackal's movements in previous battles; he knew that the villain was swift on his feet, and his hands moved even faster. He could skewer several men with his sword before they even realized what had happened to them.

Also, the pirate did not seem that old, although it was hard to tell by the way the scarf covered his face. He was dressed in black breeches, with a brown leather tunic and vest. It was said that the vest was made from human flesh, and that he used human hair to sew the seams. Around his neck he wore several gold medallions, as if showing off the wealth that he had stolen. His head was covered by a dark scarf, which hid most of his hair…although a few strands had escaped, revealing its ice blonde color. But of course, the most prominent thing about him was the scarlet scarf that covered the lower portion of his face, from just below his eyes, all the way to his throat. Another rumor that had spread was that the scarf was what kept The Jackal's jaw from falling off, that it had been sliced in such a way during a heated battle. Erik did not believe the rumors, however he loved the idea of being the one to make the latter rumor come true.

"I've heard many things about you," The Jackal murmured, his voice deep and smooth. There was also a hint of arrogant confidence that truly made the beast within Sir Erik long for release. "I've heard that you are 'infamous', that you are called the 'scourge of the King's army', that you are 'the Angel of Death on the battlefield', and I think I even heard you being referred to as the 'the eleventh plague that God thought too terrible to inflict upon the world'," he chuckled, his eyes never leaving Erik's. "I've also heard that your sword is called Ghost Maker, that the name was given by one of your enemy's before you used it on him. Is that true?"

"Aye," Erik growled. "And I'll prove it to you!"

Without warning, Erik lunged at the pirate, but The Jackal was swifter, easily dodging the fatal blow that Erik had thrown. However, Erik didn't pause, he simply lunged again and again, throwing his weight at the villain, swinging his sword with a mighty strength! And The Jackal continued to dodge each blow, sidestepping the attacks, leaping or ducking out of the way, and chuckling the whole while.

Erik was the aggressor…but The Jackal was the one who was toying with him.

"Is this how you earned your name!?" Erik roared, throwing his sword once more at The Jackal's head. "Using your speed as a way to avoid being caught with your tail between your legs, you coward!"

The Jackal merely chuckled. "Nay…that is not how I earned my name…" he ducked once more when Erik swung his sword at the pirate's head. Only this time, when he rose to his feet, his hand moved so quickly, that Erik was not aware of the dagger that the villain was holding, and it wasn't until he realized that blood was dripping down his face…that he had even been cut!

The Jackal grinned from behind his scarf, as he watched Sir Erik touch his nose…only to feel that the nostril had been slashed…and much to his horror, he could feel a part of the bone exposed!

"That," The Jackal said proudly, "is how I earned my name." And without warning, he dove towards Sir Erik again, slashing at his face once more with his dagger. Erik, however, was prepared for the attack, although it still caught him off guard, slightly. He was able to push the scoundrel off him just in time; The Jackal had slashed at Sir Erik's cheek, cutting him from below the eye to the corner of his mouth. If Erik had not stopped the pirate in time, he would have lost his right eye!

"VILLAIN!" Erik roared, driving his sword at his enemy with all his might. The battle intensified then, both men throwing their swords at one another, each dodging powerful and deadly blows, and each growling as their swords met in midair, sparks flying from their blades.

"I must say," The Jackal grunted, while countering one of Sir Erik's blows. "I can see…how you earned…your name!"

Erik merely snarled and swung his sword at the man's gut, but The Jackal was able to leap back before the Black Knight made contact.

"You are rather dark and brooding," The Jackal murmured. "Perhaps if you smiled more often, you wouldn't look so monstrous?"

Erik wanted to cut the villain's tongue out more than anything if it simply meant that they could fight in silence. But The Jackal leapt at him, once more, and Erik felt the sting of the villain's dagger as it caught the corner of his mouth, and then proceeded to rip the flesh open.

"AHHHH!" Erik roared, staggering back in pain as the blood flowed down his jaw. He could not see The Jackal's face…but he could tell that the rogue was grinning by simply looking into his eyes.

"See?" the pirate sighed. "A smile greatly improves your appearance."

Erik let go of his bleeding mouth, and roared as he charged at the man he was growing to hate more and more with every passing second. But The Jackal, damn him, was quicker. Erik was violently swinging his sword in a clumsy fashion, his anger and rage fueling his emotions in such a way that he couldn't keep a cool head to calculate his enemy's moves or actions.

And The Jackal knew this.

He continued to slash out at Sir Erik, cutting his face as he did so, faking that he was going to cut the other side, but always cutting the same. Erik kept trying to attack, kept trying to counter, but it was obvious he was losing. If Bernard, or Raoul, or any of his men were there, perhaps even his own father, they would tell him to fall back, to retreat, to go and heal his wounds so that he could live to fight another day.

But the anger was too great, and he kept pushing himself, pushing himself until he fell to the ground, The Jackal's sword making contact with his thigh.

"DAMNATION!" Erik roared, clutching at his thigh as the villain withdrew his sword, his eyes gleaming with demonic joy as the ground was stained with the Black Knight's blood. Without warning, The Jackal drove his sword into Sir Erik's shoulders, leaving large, painful wounds that would keep the Black Knight from rising off the ground.

"I must say, I rather enjoyed that," The Jackal purred once more, his foot slamming down hard on Sir Erik's chest, knocking the wind out of him. "I suppose you think I'm going to kill you now," he sighed, sounding rather bored. "Well rest assured that I'm not going to, after all…you're one of the few men I've ever met that I think is worth fighting a second time."

Erik arms and legs were throbbing with pain, and he was becoming more and more lightheaded due to the blood he was losing. In the distance, he could hear horses, moving rapidly close. Was he dreaming? Or did he actually hear Bernard's voice?

"I must leave you," The Jackal announced. "It seems we are about to draw an audience, and that is one thing I can't abide. However…I do have a parting gift for you, something…that no doubt, you will truly remember me for…"

A scream of intense pain filled Erik's lungs and then filled the sky around him, as The Jackal's blade cut deeply into the already wounded flesh at his face…

* * *

Christine's hand flew to her mouth, as if it alone could hold back the sob that threatened to burst forth. She closed her eyes and silently counted to ten, before she dared to speak. "Erik…"

Erik paused, a shaky breath escaping his lips as the memories of that horrible moment were relived, once more, before his eyes and in his mind. "I was close to death by the time Bernard found me," he whispered. "They took me back to the castle and did the best they could to stop the bleeding and stitch my wounds. But…there was no hope for my face."

A tear rolled down Christine's cheek as she imagined the pain Erik must have felt…as well as the painful way others reacted upon seeing him. It was a horrible battle that he had endured, and the thing that hurt the most was the sad thought that he had endured the aftermath alone.

"I wore bandages for weeks; Anne always changed them, but she never allowed her eyes to linger; I refused to allow anyone's eyes to linger," he growled. "When the time came for the bandages to be removed for good, I only allowed Bernard in the room. He is the only other person here, who has seen me without my mask," he quietly explained.

She was the other person to whom Erik referred. She turned her head to look up at him, humbled by the honor and trust he had given her to show her his face. "Thank you…" she whispered, reaching up to caress his cheek once more.

Erik turned and looked at her, feeling his chest tighten with emotion as he gazed back into her loving, trusting eyes, seeing that beautiful innocence he had always prayed to see. It did not disappear when he first touched her, when he made love to her, and when she had seen his face. Her sweet innocence still remained…

…but there was still much to tell, more secrets to reveal, and while her love did indeed give him strength, he was still afraid of how she would react upon learning everything.

"And Beatrice?" Christine softly whispered, as one of her fingers gently traced the scar that stretched from his lip.

Erik groaned and closed his eyes. "Beatrice saw me when I was brought in, bleeding. She screamed at the sight of the blood, and I remembered calling out to her in my delirium, but she did not come, she refused to come to my chambers until I was healed," he paused for a long moment, before finally whispering, "She was the one, who had the mask designed for me."

Christine's eyes went wide at Erik's words. "Beatrice gave you the mask?"

"Aye," Erik whispered. "If she did not give it to me, I would have sought one out myself. But on the day Bernard removed the last of my bandages, unknown to both he and I, Beatrice was hiding in the secret passage, just over there," he murmured, pointing to a large tapestry that covered one of the walls. Christine remembered the passageway; Erik had brought her through it on the day he had returned from Valmour. "I asked her why she had chosen to hide, and her answer had been because she wanted to know whether or not she could…she could _handle_ seeing my face, as it was. And she told me that when she saw how…how _hideous_ I had become…" he growled, "she knew that she could not bear to look at me. So she gave me the mask to wear."

Christine felt such anger and rage for the horrible woman who had treated Erik and his love like pure filth, when in truth, _she_ was pure filth!

"We never shared a bed after that day," he murmured. "She moved her chambers into one of the towers on the opposite end of the castle, and she refused to allow me to touch her, let alone touch me herself," he spat, with some bitterness. "I sadly was beginning to realize the vain, haughty creature that she was. And I was slowly coming to the sad realization that...she never, truly, loved me the way that I thought I loved her."

Was it possible to hate someone so passionately, especially when you hadn't met them? Christine truly despised Beatrice, and she turned one her side, sitting up slightly, so that she was looking down into her husband's face. "She was the fool, then," Christine whispered, while stroking his disfigured cheek. "A fool for not realizing the wonderful gift you were giving her…"

"Nay," Erik murmured, his eyes locking with Christine's, and his own hand rising to cover hers and hold it against his cheek. "I _thought_ I loved her…but I have learned that I have never truly loved a woman…until you."

Erik reached up to capture one of her tears, before moving his hand behind her head to bring her lips down to meet his in a tender kiss. The kiss soon began to grow more heated, as Erik opened his mouth to invite Christine's tongue. She took the invitation, and he groaned as he tasted her sweet essence, his fingers lacing in her hair to bring her even closer, if that were possible.

"Erik…" Christine moaned against his mouth, feeling his cock harden against her thigh. Her own desire was growing as well, but a part of her was unsure if she should continue; after all, she knew that Erik was not finished with his story. But she also knew…as well as _felt_…that he needed this, that they _both_ needed this, after so much history and emotion had been bared.

"Christine," Erik growled, his hands traveling down her back, marveling in the softness of her skin. "Christine, please…" he groaned. "Tell me that you love me, tell me again, let me hear the words…"

"I love you," Christine moaned, gasping as she felt one of Sir Erik's hands move down her body, until his fingers were between her thighs, preparing her body for his, making her even hotter and wetter. "I love you, Erik, I love you with my whole heart!"

"Yessssss…" he growled, and then, much to Christine's surprise, his hands gripped her about the waist, and he lifted her up until she was straddling his body. "Put me inside you, little one, let me feel your fingers upon me…oooooohhhh God, yes!" he shouted, when her small, soft fingers, wrapped around his growing shaft, and began stroking him until he was pulsing. "Yesssssss…ooohhh God, yes, just like that!" he hissed between clenched teeth. "Now…put me inside you, guide me to your heat…yes, that's it…" Erik groaned, as Christine tentatively did as he said, a nervous thrill coursing through her at what they were about to do. This was the first time ever, that they were making love with her on top…and as Christine felt him slide into her body, slowly impaling her until she was trembling…she realized, rather breathlessly…that she loved it!

"Ooooohhhh Christine!" Erik moaned, his hips automatically surging up to thrust his body deeply into hers, the motion causing Christine to gasp in surprise. "Ride me, little one…ride me as if I were your stallion!"

Even though she was impaled upon him and her body was trembling with pleasure, Christine's face still darkened a dark shade of red, and she heard Erik chuckle, which slowly became a groan, as she gently placed her palms on his chest…and began to move her body with his.

"Yesssss…God, that feels good," Erik moaned, loving the feel of Christine's body surrounding him, of moving with him. He loved her blush, he loved the way it spread down her body, and he loved the growing confidence he could see in her face, as she began to set the pace to their love making. "Mmmm…so good, Christine, so good," Erik growled again, his hands moving up from her hips, to touch and squeeze her breasts, before falling back to her waist, and holding her steady as the rhythm in his hips eagerly responded to her sweet strokes.

"Erik…" Christine panted, biting her lip as the pleasure increased with her tempo. "Erik!" It felt so good, being with him, connecting with him, loving him. She could not imagine a life without him; she did not even wish to think of such a life. She loved this man so fiercely, so intensely, that her heart ached when they were apart.

"Good, Christine…so good…" Erik growled, his body growing hotter and tenser as the pleasure increased more and more. He needed this—nay, they _both_ needed this. His sweet Christine; her love was not false, her love did not have ulterior motives, she was nothing like Beatrice, or any other woman he had ever known! She touched his face as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do, and she did not flinch or look away. She loved him; this amazing, extraordinary woman…loved him!

Erik groaned as he felt her muscles squeeze his cock, knowing that her climax was close. He held her tightly as he surged his hips up to her in several fast, deep thrust, gasping as the pleasure suddenly took him without warning, and as it shook his body like an earthquake, he shouted, "say it Christine! SAY IT!"

"I LOVE YOU!" Christine screamed, the pleasure so intense, she was quivering as it took her. "I LOVE YOU, ERIK!"

"GOD, YES!" Erik roared, thrusting his body into hers one last time, as his seed spilled forth, emptying himself deep inside her. "God…Christine, how I love you…"

Panting and gasping from the intensity of it all, Christine moaned and braced herself, her hands flat against his chest, her arms shaking. Erik's own trembling arms wrapped around her, his hands urging her body to collapse against his, which she did gladly, purring with contentment as she felt her husband's hands trace soothing circles across her back as he held her to his chest. "Oooohhhh Erik…" Christine moaned, her breathing slowly returning to normal. It felt so good, to be held in the warmth and protection of his arms, and a part of her was longing for sleep, to drift away and dream about everything they had just shared.

But as she turned her head so she could look into her husband's handsome face, she saw the haunting sadness return to his eyes, once more.

"Thank you," Erik whispered, his lips moving to kiss her brow, his arms never loosening their grip around her, but his eyes holding such sadness and pain. "For your love…and for listening."

"I'm _still_ listening, Erik," Christine whispered, her fingers moving once more to caress his cheek. "And nothing will stop my love…not even the ghosts that haunt you. Please...continue, if you wish."

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly nodded his head. "Perhaps you are wondering about the connection between The Jackal and Beatrice? Why I would bring him up at all, when I said that I was going to tell you about Beatrice…and what became of her?"

Christine bit her lip. "Did The Jackal murder her?"

"Worse," Erik muttered through clenched teeth. "She was his accomplice…"

* * *

_My obsession with seeing The Jackal's demise grew more and more after he took my face. I blamed him for so many things, including Beatrice turning away from me and wanting me no longer. Would I find peace if I killed him? Would Beatrice come back to me if I killed him? Looking back, I realized that the answer was no…but it didn't matter, all I cared about was seeking my revenge._

_The castle no longer felt like a welcoming place to stay; Beatrice kept away from me, and perhaps to punish me even more, she was sure that Jacob was kept away from me as well. So in order to fight my melancholy, I took whatever summons the King sent, whatever mission he needed to be completed, and I soon found myself relishing the moments when I was far away from Winterbourne and the coldness that I felt there._

_But in the back of my mind, I kept reliving that fight with The Jackal, and I kept contemplating all that I had done wrong in that fight, mentally making changes to my moves, before copying them physically. I was determined to be prepared for him, when next we would meet._

_And meet we did. A few months after Helena had been born._

_Word reached me that several of his ships were spotted near Valmour. I ordered my men to make ready, and within the hour that we had heard the news, we were racing towards the village, determined to make this recent raid, his last. However, on the cliffs near Winterbourne, I sensed something…something familiar. I ordered Bernard to lead the men to Valmour, and without another word, I dismounted my horse and drew my sword, before disappearing into the fog that was swirling around the cliffs._

_In the distance I could hear my men protesting, calling out my name, but I paid them no heed. I closed my eyes and listened to the world around me; no bird sang, no breeze blew, and even the waves did not make much of a sound as they gently rolled over the rocks beneath. And that was when I heard him approach…_

"I thought it fitting…meeting you here, at the very place where we last fought, and where I took something that belonged to you," The Jackal chuckled, emerging from the mist.

Erik simply growled, his eyes narrowing as he faced his enemy. He would not lash out first; he knew that was what The Jackal wanted. Instead, he would wait, and use the same cold calculation that his enemy used.

"I must say, I think the mask is a good touch," the pirate teased. "'Tis a shame, though; it hides my best work."

"Perhaps I can return the favor?" Erik snarled.

The Jackal chuckled once more, before lifting his sword. "We shall see…although I have the distinct feeling…that you intend to be far less merciful."

Erik's eyes narrowed, until they were slits of molten lava. "Death would be the only mercy I would grant you," he growled, his voice so low that the very ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble. "And one of us is not leaving this cliff…alive."

_The battle was fierce; I can not deny that he is a great fighter, perhaps the best I have ever come into combat with. His skills were amazing, his speed unbelievable, and he moved like the wind, surprising you with every blow, every counter, and every clash of the sword. And he had taught me much, since last we fought. I was ready for his strikes, and I was ready for his counter attacks. I did not lash out in anger and passion as I had done before, despite the great rage that was welling up inside me and longing for release. Nay, I fought him with cold fury, the emotion not once showing my face; my eyes were like stone. I refused to give him any advantage. _

"You've improved, I see!" The Jackal panted, taking a step back to catch his breath. "Something about you has changed, and it's more than just your appearance."

"Take pleasure in knowing that you are a great teacher," Sir Erik growled, before swinging his sword in an attack.

The Jackal barely caught the attack with his own sword, and stumbled backwards, his dark eyes wide with surprise, but any other emotion was completely unreadable. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," the pirate sighed. "I would rather die at the hands of a great fighter than a foolish one…and there is no fighter who is greater than I. The irony of it all, eh Erik?"

_I didn't let him distract me; I just continued to fight him, refusing to show any emotion, refusing to feel anything! With every blow, every strike, I remembered all that he had done to me, the way he had taken my face, and the impact that his torture had caused. Beatrice, the woman I loved, refused to touch me, to even speak to me if she could avoid it. She kept our son away from me, she wouldn't allow me to hold my own daughter if she were present, and she called me a monster and told me how much I disgusted her. One would think that with all that rage, all that anger, all that pain…I would be fighting with great passion to see him pay for everything I blamed him for._

_But I didn't show any passion, I didn't show any anger, and my rage remained caged within my soul. The truth of the matter is…I didn't feel anything. My heart had frozen into stone…_

"Ahh!" The Jackal cried, as Ghost Maker made contact with his thigh. The pirate stumbled backwards, groaning in pain as Sir Erik removed his sword from the bleeding wound. "You…you s-s-surprise me, Erik…" The Jackal gasped. "I…I have f-f-fought many, in my lifetime…but…never…never one…as cold-hearted as you…"

Erik said nothing; he didn't even allow the pirate to say anything further. Without warning, he drove his sword into the villain's stomach, slicing through the flesh, muscle, and organs, blood spraying his armor and the ground at his feet, driving his sword deeper and deeper…until he felt his blade make contact with bone.

Only then, did he retract his weapon.

The Jackal was staggering. He could barely stand, and his eyes were wide as they looked down at the gaping wound that was staining his leather tunic to a dark shade of red. He lifted his head slowly then, staring at Sir Erik, his wide, dark eyes still unreadable. "You…you…you h-h-have f-f-f-finished me…" he gasped, his words gurgling as blood filled his lungs. "B-b-but…b-b-before…before…before I die…" he managed to get out. "O-o-one l-last t-thing to g-g-give…"

The pirate stumbled forward then, until his hands were gripping Erik's armored shoulders. He lifted his head just slightly, and very, very softly, whispered into the Black Knight's ear, "Beatrice…" he gurgled. "S-s-she…she is…m-my eyes…"

_I was stunned by what he had said, and I went to grab him by the fabric of his tunic, but he was already stumbling backwards, and the next thing I knew…he had fallen from the cliff's edge. I looked down, and saw his broken body dashed upon the rocks below, the sea already lapping up his blood. _

_I emerged from the fog, all of my men including Bernard, still standing there, waiting. They rushed towards me, asking what had happened, asking if it were The Jackal. I told them that they would find what remained of him down on the shoreline, and several of my men disappeared to go and fetch his body. Later, I would learn that his body had already been taken out to sea, but in that moment I did not care about anything…other than returning to Winterbourne…and confronting Beatrice._

_I found her in the northern tower, gazing out at the sea below. She was standing straight and tall, her back to me, and when I opened the door, she did not flinch. _

"Do not even think of touching me in that bloody thing," she snarled. "I saw you from the window; how you disgust me, Erik."

"What is more offensive? The blood on my clothes...or The Jackal's last words?"

Beatrice snorted at what Erik said. "Such a foolish thing to ask, when I don't even know what his final words were!" she turned then, her blue eyes blazing with hatred as she locked them with Erik's golden ones. "Are you happy now? Happy to have finally taken your revenge?" she spat. "Do you feel satisfaction? Peace? A sense of contentment?" she folded her arms across her chest and eyed him suspiciously. "Or do you feel…just a slight sense…of regret?"

Erik's hands balled into fists. "Aye…I do feel regret," he snarled.

Beatrice nodded her head. "I thought as much. For how long have you been longing to destroy The Jackal? Before Jacob was born, I think. Long before he turned your face into a nightmare," she spat. "Since that first time you fought him, and nearly lost all of your army? Or was it before then? Was it before you even knew him that you were longing for such an enemy, for such a _challenge?"_

"Perhaps I already had such an enemy? Perhaps such an enemy was already in my midst?"

Beatrice eyed him for a long moment, before lifting her chin in defiance. "Perhaps so."

"Why, Beatrice?" Erik asked, tired of these games, wanting to know the truth. "How long have you been…been…been doing this!?" he roared, the pent up rage demanding release. "Before I knew about The Jackal? Before any of us knew? WHY!?"

"Why not!" she rounded, her eyes blazing with hatred and fury. "Did you even _think_ of asking yourself that question?"

Erik was stunned. He did not think she would so easily admit to what he was accusing her of. "So it is true…you have been The Jackal's eyes?"

"Oh Erik," Beatrice sighed, turning her attention back towards the window. "You always were a naïve fool. When you were younger, I found the trait endearing…but over the years, it has become more and more tiresome."

Beatrice screeched when she felt Sir Erik's hands grip her by the shoulders and whirl her around until she was facing him. "Were you lying to me, all those years, when you told me that you loved me!?" he demanded, shaking her like a rag doll. "When you kissed me, when we made love, when you gave birth to my children!? WAS THAT ALL A LIE!?"

Much to Erik's surprise, Beatrice simply laughed. "You'll never know, will you?"

Erik snarled and lifted his arm to backhand her across the face, but instead of covering her head in attempts to stop his blow, she simply stared back at him, her eyes challenging him to do it, daring him to hit her.

And he couldn't do it.

"Oh Erik," Beatrice sighed, easily releasing herself from his hold. "A noble knight till the end; you can't even hit a woman, even the woman who revealed all of the King's information and all your battle plans to your most hated enemy," she grinned, wickedly. "Did you ever wonder how you lost that first battle against him, all those years ago? Was it just The Jackal's intuition? Or was it because someone was feeding him information?" she chuckled, a low, evil chuckle, before seating herself at the window. "You know what surprises me, Erik? All these years you and I have known each other…and not once have you ever attempted to learn anything about my past," she sighed. "You never asked me where I was born, where I grew up, whether I had any family still living…whether I had a brother…?"

Erik lifted his head and glared into her eyes. "He was your brother?"

Beatrice simply smiled. "The bonds of family run deep, Erik. Perhaps he and I had planned this out, for many years? Perhaps I was planted here, to lure your father, my beloved Edwin," she sarcastically cooed. "After all, a man like him who had such close connections to the crown…it was perfect, really! And then there was his son…such a brooding figure, a man bent on doing whatever it took to make his father proud. You were a challenge, at first, but I quickly realized that a few flirtatious kisses, a few passionate promises, a few words of love—hguh!"

Beatrice began gasping and flailing about, as Erik's hand whipped out and gripped her about the neck, squeezing until her face began to purple. "TRAITOROUS WHORE!" he shouted, shaking her and squeezing even harder. "YOU USED MY FATHER THE SAME WAY YOU USED ME! EVERYTHING, IT WAS ALL A FARCE TO YOU!" he pulled her close until she was mere inches away from his face. "I should squeeze your pretty neck until your head pops off!" he growled, low and deep, before snapping his fingers. Suddenly, several of Winterbourne's guards entered the room, each looking at the woman Erik held with hatred and disdain. Bernard was the last to enter, and his expression the sourest of them all. "I have never killed a woman before, Beatrice…" Erik growled, before thrusting her into the direction of his guards. "And I'm not going to start now."

Beatrice was coughing and gasping for air and she stared up at Erik with blind hatred. "I…I n-n-never loved you…y-you…m-m-monstrous b-bastard!" she coughed, glaring at him. "Go on, then," she gasped, her breathing slowing returning to normal. "Haul me off to the King, have me officially executed, see my head put on the end of a spike!" she spat. "It's not over, Erik…you may think it is, but it's not," she laughed wickedly. "Jacob and Helena will learn one day what you did to their mother…and they will turn on you and betray you, themselves! If you know what's good for you…you'd drown them now!"

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Erik roared at his men, disgusted by her words.

"I CURSE YOU, ERIK!" she shouted as they dragged her away. "I CURSE YOU AND ALL OF WINTERBOURNE! MY GHOST WILL RETURN, AS WILL THE GHOST OF THE JACKAL! YOU HAVE NOT SO EASILY WON! YOU WILL SUFFER LONG AFTER THIS DAY; YOU WILL KNOW ONLY COLDNESS AND BETRAYAL! YOUR CHILDREN WILL HATE YOU! NO WOMAN WILL EVER LOVE YOU! YOU ARE A MONSTER, ERIK! A VILE MONSTER! YOU MAY HATE ME NOW, BUT YOU WILL NOT FORGET THE LOVE YOU ONCE FELT FOR ME, AND IT WILL EAT AT YOU AND HAUNT YOU UNTIL YOU ARE SWALLOWED WHOLE BY YOUR GUILT! I CURSE YOU, ERIK, DO YOU HEAR ME? I CURSE YOU!"

* * *

"She was wrong, Erik," Christine interrupted, her hands holding his face as she gazed down at him from atop his chest. "You know that now, surely?" she whispered, her eyes filled hope and tenderness. "Your children _do not_ hate you, and I _do_ love you."

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head, but there was still a deep sadness in his eyes. "To this day, Jacob and Helena do not know the truth. In fact, only Bernard and the men who were with me that night know what truly happened. As far as everyone else knows, Beatrice simply…disappeared."

_Beatrice simply disappeared. _Now it all made sense, what Ophelia and Anne and other servants had told her, when mentioning the mysterious disappearance of Sir Erik's mistress. Beatrice was in truth a spy for The Jackal, and had been taken away as any traitor towards the King, would be. Yet Christine was surprised to think that no one had asked what became of her?

"I told the children that she had gotten sick and died," Erik whispered. "Jacob was only two, and Helena was an infant. They soon forgot about her, and believed my story. I made her sound much more…_angelic_, than she really was…or deserved to be."

"They are children, Erik. You were simply trying to protect them, to give them something happy to remember her by—"

"If I told them the truth, they would think of me as a monster, as a murderer…which is what I am."

Christine was shocked by these words. "But…but you didn't kill her, Erik! You said that she was taken away—"

"I may not have swung the executioner's ax, but I sentenced her to her death that night. And…God help me, I know that she is vile, a traitor that used me and my father, for her own personal gain, but…every night, when I go to sleep…she haunts my dreams! She won't stop tormenting me, she won't stop playing on the guilt and doubt that I have been trying to suppress and bury all these years, and I keep wondering if…if perhaps she wanted this? She wanted to make me suffer and believe myself to be a hideous monster, by sentencing her to death?"

Christine's fingers never ceased their gentle caresses over his face as she listened to his words. "It is possible," she whispered, "that that is what she wanted you to believe, but there is one thing that she didn't anticipate, one thing that she didn't expect…"

Erik didn't move. He simply looked up at his wife and whispered, "And what is that?"

Christine smiled, before lowering her mouth to softly run her lips across his. "That I would find you, that I would come here, that I would love you, and that I would fight and protect you against all the demons and ghosts that haunt you."

Erik gazed up at her with wonder, amazed that despite his chilling story, and everything else that she had heard and witnessed this night, she was still there, still offering her love to him. "My brave warrior," Erik whispered, before kissing her back. "Who would have thought that the servant girl I found in de Coleville's garden was such a mighty soldier?"

Christine blushed but smiled, before leaning forward to place a sweet, gentle kiss across his scarred cheek. "No ghosts will find you while I'm here," Christine vowed. "I will protect you just as you protect me."

"Christine," Erik sighed, hating that he was ruining this tender moment. "There is still more to tell—"

"I know," Christine whispered. "But right now, rest my love. I promise you, this night you will only find peace when you sleep. And in the morning, before everyone else awakes, _we_ will finish this tale."

Erik drew her even closer, holding her tight as a wave of tiredness crashed upon them both after the long, emotional night. As he ran a hand through her brown hair, Erik could not help but smile; it seemed that Beatrice's curse was not as powerful as Christine's love.


	37. Disruptive Interlude

**Summary: **The morning after their blissful evening brings several secrets into light, including ones that Sir Erik is not happy to hear. Meanwhile, the children learn why their father did not kill Sir Raoul, and a mysterious illness falls upon Sir Erik...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

_**Disruptive Interlude**_

Philippe groaned to the loud sound of knocking on his door. It had been a long night, spent mainly in Valmour's tiny tavern. However, not even the promise of ale or the pretty smiles of the bar maidens that served it, could lift Philippe's spirits. For nearly a week, he had to endure the dreary peasant-life that was Valmour. He was dying of boredom, and he was growing more and more angry as the days passed; Sir Erik's sudden absence was ruining things for him!

The pounding on the door would not stop, and Philippe growled in annoyance as he threw off the blankets, and stormed towards the door. "WHAT!?" he roared, opening the door so quickly that the innkeeper who had been knocking, nearly fell forward.

"I…I…" the innkeeper swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "B-b-beggin' y-your pardon…my lord, but…y-y-you t-told me to…to l-let you know…the second it was known that…that Sir Erik has returned."

Philippe's dark eyes went wide at the innkeeper's revelation. Sir Erik had returned? "When did you learn this!?" he demanded, grabbing the poor frightened innkeeper by the collar of his shirt and shaking him.

"J-j-just now!" the innkeeper wailed, before stumbling backwards when Philippe released him. "He…he was seen, passing the village yesterday, on his way back to Winterbourne," he explained. "Several farmers saw him, and told me just now."

Philippe's eyes began to twinkle, and the innkeeper felt his blood turn to ice at the menacing look. "Good man," Philippe muttered to the innkeeper, before reaching out to the small table that was next to his bed, and grabbing hold of a leather pouch. The innkeeper watched with wide, greedy eyes, as Philippe poured several gold coins into his hand from the pouch. "One more thing," Philippe muttered as he played with the gold that he held. "Have you seen my sister as of late?" All week Carlotta had been acting strangely. It upset him, for the last thing he needed was his sister backing out of their plan now.

"Your sister?" the innkeeper repeated, reluctantly moving his eyes away from the money Philippe held. "Nay, my lord. I assumed that she is in her room?"

Philippe glanced beyond the doorway in which he stood, and noticed that the door to Carlotta's room was already opened, and several servant girls were already going about the task of putting on new sheets. Carlotta was not used to a life where people did not wait upon her hand and foot, or where her sheets were not cleaned every day. Her complaints and temper tantrums had the servants of Valmour's inn working from dawn till dusk…and sometimes even later.

"You did not see her rise?" Philippe asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. What on earth was his sister up to?

"Nay, my lord," the innkeeper shook his head, his attention once more being drawn back to the money Philippe held.

Philippe rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He held out the handful of money to the innkeeper, who looked as if he might faint from happiness at all the gold he was about to receive…only to have his hopes dashed, when Philippe flipped a single coin into the man's chubby hand. "For your troubles," Philippe muttered, before slamming the door into the saddened innkeeper's face.

He leaned against the closed door and ran a hand across his face, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from losing his temper. He did not like Carlotta leaving her room without knowing where she went; the last thing he needed was for her to raise suspicions! Cursing softly, he quickly dressed himself and barged downstairs, into the inn's dining room, just to see if Carlotta was there.

She was not.

However, Philippe did notice two other men, both dressed in simple peasant's garb, drinking their morning ale, and lifting their eyes to meet his, now and then. These men were large, and looked more like warriors than farmers. And Philippe did not like the way they looked at him…as if they suspected something…

Without another look at the men, he left the inn, set on seeing his plans through, whether his sister helped him or not. And Christine…oooohhh, she would be his!

* * *

Christine was the first to awake. Her limbs felt a little stiff, and there was a little soreness between her legs. She blushed at the realization…but also smiled, as she lazily opened her eyes to find herself still atop her husband, her head pillowed against his massive chest.

One would perhaps think it odd that she was smiling; after all, Sir Erik had revealed to her much about his sad past, from his once strong friendship with Sir Raoul, to the horrible way Beatrice used, manipulated, and ultimately betrayed him, to the chilling retelling of how his face came to be as it was. Her poor husband had suffered greatly in life, and it sadly became more and more clear why he spent so many years away from Winterbourne and his own children. She could only hope that she could continue to do good for them…

Erik moaned in his sleep as he felt something soft gently caress his disfigured cheek. In the past, if he ever felt such a breeze or such a touch against his face, he would have reacted violently, shaking the object away. But the touch felt so good…and as he felt a pair of sweet, soft lips, run across his own…he knew, happily, that it was not a dream.

"Good morning," Christine whispered, blushing deeply and smiling down at him.

"Yes, indeed," Erik murmured back, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a smile. He was amazed that he was feeling so calm this morning, especially after all the revelations of the night before. Once upon a time, he would have assumed she would be trembling in terror upon seeing his true face and upon learning his dark past. And yet…here she was, lying naked atop him, her eyes filled with such tenderness as she looked at him. He didn't doubt her love anymore; Christine had proved herself so many times…

"How is your shoulder?" she whispered, before gently dropping her lips to place a soft kiss across the bandage.

He swore he could feel her lips through the linen. "Sore, that I can not deny, but it will heal. I have had far worse injuries in my life, as you can see."

Christine knew he meant his face, but her hand only stroked the scars with great care and love. She did not find him repulsive, as it seemed so many others did. How could she? He was the man she loved, the man who had saved her from that hellish castle, who held her in such a way, as if she were a precious jewel, and who kissed her in such a way that she felt like a princess from one of her songs. As a child, she dreamt of adventure, of traveling to mystical places, like those in the songs her mother and father sang to her. She did not know…until the day he found her in that garden, that _he_ was the dream she had truly been longing for, her entire life.

"It must not have been good for your shoulder, that I slept atop—"

Her sentence was interrupted when Erik's muscular arms locked around her, holding her even tighter against him.

"You are not going anywhere," he growled deeply, before gently rolling the two of them over, until he was covering her body. "My shoulder will heal much faster, with you against me, than without."

Christine was blushing deeply, and Erik's passionate growling only seemed to increase the more she blushed. Some women would probably find the animal sounds that he made to be quite frightening…but Christine's body tingled to his feral growls, and she loved the feeling of Erik's muscular form deliciously crushing her to the bed. "And now, madam wife?" Erik softly asked. "Do you still find your husband handsome, even in the morning light?"

Christine only smiled and lifted her head until she could kiss his scarred cheek. "Always," she whispered. "He is the hero of my heart, the knight I have always dreamt would come and rescue me."

"Truly?" Erik murmured, bending his head to softly bite the flesh at her neck, his arousal growing even harder. "Tell me of your dreams, little one, tell me of your fantasies…and leave no delicious details out."

Christine was turning bright red at the sensual way he spoke…as well as the erotic way he was kissing her skin. "Erik…" she began to moan, gasping as she felt his hardened cock rub her inner thigh. He was insatiable!

"I mean it," Erik growled against her throat. "Think of me as a priest who you have come to confess your darkest desires to," he grinned, before continuing to kiss down her body.

Christine couldn't help but purr, especially at the wonderful sensations he was stirring in her. But she remembered how the children were reluctant to leave him last night…and would only be too eager to come and see him this morning. "Erik…" she murmured, trying to keep some composure, despite the delicious things he was doing to her. "The children…t-t-they will be up, soon…"

"You have such beautiful breasts," Erik moaned, as he gently squeezed one of the soft, pale globes. "I love the way they fill my hands…and I love how hard your nipples become," he groaned, before lapping his tongue around one of the buds. "Delicious…just like the rest of you," he hungrily growled, before suckling at her other breast.

"Erik…" Christine panted. "They…they…they w-w-will wish to see you…"

"Do you have any idea what you do to me, Christine? How hard you make me?" he emphasized his point by bringing the tip of his cock to her dewy center, and nuzzling the wet curls that crowned her womanhood. "I'm on fire for you, little one…"

Christine was on fire too! She made one last attempt, although she was now extremely reluctant. "Anne…s-s-she will w-want to check your wound…"

"Then let them knock," he growled, before driving his hardness into her body, and claiming her gasping lips for his own. Christine simply responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, and moving with each stroke, each thrust, the pleasure mounting as their bodies fused together.

As it had been in the past, their lovemaking was passionate and intense. Whether it was quick and hard, or slow and tender, it was deeply passionate and always left them panting and desiring more. Even after their shared climax, when ecstasy claimed them once more, Erik did not stop his thrusts until Christine's trembling subsided, and until he felt the last of his seed empty his body. "Oooohhhh Christine…" he groaned, his head falling against her neck, his body slick with sweat and panting heavily. "God, what you do to me," he lifted his head and gazed down at her with wonder. "Even if we made love every day for the rest of our lives…I still don't think it would be enough to quench my hunger; I can't get enough of you, it seems."

Christine was blushing brightly, but her skin seemed to be glowing radiantly. "Neither can I," she whispered, which only caused her blush to increase at the sound of her husband's feral growl. "I…I knew very little, about…" she blushed even more, especially when she heard her husband's deep, throaty chuckle. "I…I never imagined a husband and a wife…_enjoying_…" she felt so embarrassed, but Erik's desire was only growing at his wife's innocent explanation. "Enjoying it as much…as I do," she got the last of the words out and could only imagine how bright her face was burning.

But Erik could not help but smile at his wife, and bent his head to kiss her once more, only this time it was soft, tender, and lingering. "Christine…" he whispered against her lips. "You are an amazing woman…truly. And while I am a sinful man…I must have found some favor with God, for the Lord to allow one of his angels to come and be with me…let alone love me."

Christine tenderly cupped his face, but she noticed a deep sadness in the depths of his golden eyes, as if an old memory were stirring. She knew that there was still more of his tale to tell, and more questions to be answered, but she wondered at how painful these memories were for him? Listening to his tale about Beatrice's horrible betrayal, and how The Jackal cut his face, it was heartbreaking! Was the rest just as sorrowful?

"When I was traveling back to Winterbourne, I encountered a woman by the side of the road…"

"Yes, I remember," Christine whispered, recalling his words from the night before. "You said that she was a very wise woman, who gave you some valuable advice."

"Aye, that she did," he sighed, before carefully rolling over, but his arms remaining around Christine. "I don't believe in witchcraft or sorcery, but…she certainly had me second guessing those beliefs."

Christine's brow furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"

Erik remembered the encounter and repeated the words that the woman had said to him. "She told me…she told me that by telling you of my love for you…the ghosts of my past would cease their torment, that they haunt me because I…I feel guilt and repulsion for myself, and through those feelings, I allow them to torment me."

Christine felt a chill run down her spine at her husband's words. How did the woman know about his past? She opened her mouth to speak, but Erik continued.

"She was right, I think," he whispered with a sense of awe. "Last night…there were no nightmares, no voices filling my ears with cruel, hateful words. I felt such peace, such…" he looked at her and held her even closer. "Freedom."

Christine smiled, feeling her eyes fill with happy tears at his words. She had prayed that he would find peace at last, and she was grateful that it had happened. Yet she was still shaken by everything he had revealed to her that the woman had said.

"There is more," he murmured, causing Christine to shiver slightly. What else did this mysterious woman reveal? "Christine, you must know that…that when I was…pushing you away," he looked away from her as he said this. "It was because I was trying to protect you, trying to…" he paused and closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Nay…I was protecting _myself_. I was afraid that…that you would turn away from me—"

"But I'm _here_, Erik," Christine whispered, her hand cupping his chin and gently turning his face to look back at hers. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He looked deeply into her eyes and felt the corners of his lips move upward in a thankful smile. "Nay…you wouldn't, would you? You are the brave maiden who has rescued her ghost from the demons that taunt him."

Christine blushed deeply and smiled at the reference he made to the favorite song she had sung. However, his next words caused her face to pale in shock.

"The woman told me that by pushing you away, I was doing more harm than good, that I wasn't protecting you, I was forcing you into danger, that you would do whatever it took to learn the truth on your own, and possibly place yourself in danger," he trembled at the thought of his sweet, beautiful wife, suffering at the hands of some villain, all because he had been too proud and too cowardly to tell her the truth, himself. "If anything happened to you Christine…I…nay, I refuse to think it," he growled. "I am thankful I was able to return before—"

Christine sat straight up, clutching the sheets to her breasts, her eyes wide and her skin pale at the recent revelations. Erik looked confused, and also rose, his hands moving to her shoulders to turn her to face him, to see what was wrong…and he was surprised to find her trembling!

"Christine?" Something was wrong, and Erik was trying very hard to remain calm and not demand what had her shaking so. "Christine, what is it?"

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and kept her eyes adverted. Whoever this woman was, she obviously had some special ability to see into the future or know things that could not be seen. Christine _had_ gone in search of answers! She had gone to the home of Thomas and Giselle Continey, Elizabeth's parents, in order to learn more about Sir Erik's past, and what became of the mysterious woman who had once been his wife. And while she had left the place safely…she _had_ placed herself in danger. Thomas and Giselle were mad with grief and hatred! If Ophelia, or even the castle guard who had accompanied them had not been there…

She was trembling more and more, and could feel her husband growing tense beside her. What would Erik say? She could not lie to him, not after everything he had revealed to her last night!

"Christine…" Erik's voice sounded deep and gruff, making it very obvious how difficult it was for him to hold his temper. She knew that she was only worrying him, more and more with her silence; she only prayed that he would not be too angry once she spoke.

"I…I…on…on the day you left…" she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared herself. "On the day you left Winterbourne, I went to see the Continey's."

The silence was deafening.

Christine had her back to Sir Erik, and slowly, turned her body until she could see him, lifting her eyes until they were locked with his.

His face was completely unreadable.

It was a mixture of shock, horror, anger, and…was that pain that she saw in his eyes? Her own eyes filled with tears, worried that by her revelation, he believed she was no different than the other women he had known, that she had also betrayed him and his trust. _Oh God, I cannot live with myself if he thinks that!_

"Erik," Christine managed to get out, despite the sobs that were lodged in her throat. "I…I'm sorry, I truly am, I…I was so…I thought I had driven you away that morning, and…and I wanted to learn everything I could, I…I wanted to…I…" she couldn't go on, all she could think about was the pain she was causing him with her revelation.

Erik was also trembling, although it was for different reasons than Christine. "You…you went to Elizabeth's home?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but deep and dark, causing the walls around them to tremble.

Christine nodded her head and looked away, feeling so ashamed. "I didn't do it to hurt you, Erik, I swear…I…I only wanted to prove—"

"That I'm a murderer?" he spat with disgust.

Christine's eyes went wide and she rounded on him. "Nay! I NEVER thought you were a murderer!"

"Then give me ONE reason why you would go to the home of Elizabeth's parents!?" he growled, anger flowing through his veins. What had she been thinking!? Was she aware of the danger that she had put herself in!? These were people who HATED him and would do ANYTHING to see him suffer! "The only reason I can even THINK that would drive you to that place was to learn whether or not I killed their precious daughter…so tell me, Christine? If you did not think I murdered Elizabeth, as so many others do…WHY did you go there?!"

Christine lifted her chin, the tears still flowing down her cheeks, but she too, was also feeling anger, red hot, flowing through her body. "I have heard MANY things against you since coming here! My God, since before I came here!" she shouted, recalling how Carlotta had filled her ears with horrible stories of Sir Erik when she was still a servant for the spoiled girl. "And I have DEFENDED you, even though I had no proof and knew very little! And despite all the rumors, and all the mysteries, I NEVER once thought you to be this villain that the world…and even yourself, Erik, seem determined to prove you to be!"

Christine leapt to her feet, clutching the sheets even tighter around her body, as she turned and glared back at him. "I went to the Continey's because I hoped that by learning about Elizabeth, I could dispel those rumors, those mysteries, and PROVE that you _are_ innocent, that you are NOT a murderer!"

Erik turned his head and let out a sarcastic laugh of disdain. "Oh yes, I'm sure Thomas and Giselle Continey were more than happy to _dispel_ those rumors," he growled, before rising from the bed himself and stalking towards her, not caring that he was naked. "And I'm sure once you presented my case, you _easily_ won them over!"

Christine lifted her chin, not caring for the sarcastic way in which he referred to her defending him. "I knew very little, but despite that, and despite what they said, I stood by you and defended you with every breath of my body!"

She gasped when Erik grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him. "And what did the dear couple have to say about me, eh? Did they make the truth sound far more terrible? Did they tell you how I defiled their daughter's flesh? That I raped her upon an altar built for the devil? No? Because I've heard that rumor, my dear, even amongst my own servants!" he spat. "Did they tell you how I butchered her, scattering pieces of her all across the countryside? That I drank her blood from a church chalice, that I—"

"NO!" Christine screamed, pushing against his chest with all her might and finally freeing herself from his arms. "They said NOTHING that vile! And even if they had, I would NOT have believed it!" she shouted, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took, her blue eyes shimmering with angry tears. "I love you, Erik! I was not betraying you when I went to them, I was trying to learn the truth so that I could HELP you!"

_"She loves you, and will do whatever it takes to learn the truth herself. She does it not to betray your trust, but so that she can help you!"_

The woman's words echoed through his head. She had not been wrong, whoever she was. He was angry with Christine, that he could not deny, but why was he angry? Was it because she had gone behind his back to seek out answers to questions he did not wish for her to ask? _But who is at fault for that? I was afraid of her response, but she has told me, over and over…that she loves me, and even now, she is defending me._ No, what angered him was that she had put herself in danger…and he could have prevented it, had he simply told her everything in the first place.

"Christine—"

"I think it's best that I return to my chambers," she whispered, still feeling the fires of anger course through her veins. She knew that she shouldn't have gone to the Continey's, she especially regretted going now, after she had met the sorrowful and vengeful couple, and she couldn't entirely blame Erik for being angry with her for going. But what truly upset her was hearing him speak of all the evils he had been accused of, and not once, attempting to defend himself or tell her _his_ side of the story! After everything they had shared the night before; were there still secrets Sir Erik was not willing to share with his wife?

Erik felt as if she had slapped him across the face at the cold way she spoke just then. Before she could even reach the door, he had stalked across the room in two easy strides, and grabbed her once more by the shoulders and whirled her around. "It's _not_ that I don't trust you!" he hissed. "But you do not understand—"

"Then tell me!" Christine interrupted, her own hands going to his shoulders and gripping them. "I want to help you, Erik, I want to help you in anything and everything. The children are mine as well, they call me mother, I want to help you with protecting them, with protecting our home, with—"

"Papa!?"

Erik groaned and closed his eyes, before summoning his patience. Of all the timing…

"Papa? Are you awake?" Helena's voice called out.

He was very tempted to not say anything, but he knew that Christine was not the only one he had to explain himself to, for leaving as he had done. "Wait but a moment!" he barked through the door. He looked at Christine, hoping that his eyes could tell her that he wanted to say more to her, that he loved her and did trust her, he just had so many damn insecurities, that it was hard for him to trust anyone! But he _did_ trust her…he did believe her, when she told him she had gone to Elizabeth's family to help him.

Reluctantly, Erik released Christine's shoulders, and pulled on his breeches, while Christine put her shift and dress back on, choosing to not bother with the laces. Erik was searching the bed for his mask; after a wonderful night spent in Christine's arms, he had actually forgotten about the wretched thing! But now it was morning, and he was not prepared to reveal his face in all its hideous glory to the morning light…or the innocent eyes of his children.

"Here…"

Erik looked up and realized that Christine was holding it. He took the mask from her, and momentarily their fingers touched. "They should know," she simply whispered, before releasing his hand. Erik opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he quickly placed the mask back on, before opening the door and allowing all five of his children to tumble inside.

"Papa! Cook is preparing a special breakfast in honor of your return!" Charles shouted, leaping up and down.

"Will you play with us today?" Sarah and Sabrina wailed, grabbing hold of both his hands and eagerly tugging on each one.

"Can we go riding after breakfast?" Helena eagerly asked, also jumping up and down in her excitement.

"Father, I know you have only recently returned from a long journey, but I want to show you some of the skills I learned with a sword!" Jacob declared proudly, squaring his shoulders and keeping his back straight and tall, as if mimicking the Black Knight.

"Yes to all your questions," Erik answered, his heart flooding with warmth as he gazed into the faces of all his children. His eyes lingered for a moment on Jacob, especially. He was happy that the boy seemed to be better spirits this morning than how he had been feeling last night, but Jacob was his son through and through, and Erik knew how von Desslar men "masked" their true emotions.

"Can Mama come too?" Helena asked, still bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Erik thought that an odd thing to say, especially since Christine was standing right there. But when he lifted his head to look at his wife…he was surprised to see that she was gone. He looked over his shoulder…and saw that the corner of the tapestry that covered the secret passage, was wrinkled.

* * *

Lady von Desslar was "indisposed"; at least that was the message Anne had given him. Erik knew this wasn't true, and he was sorely tempted to stalk up the steps that led to Christine's chambers, and break the door down if need be…

But he held himself back, knowing that today was a special day that he needed to spend with his children. He would deal with his wife later…

After breakfast was finished, Erik took the children to the stables, and helped the younger ones mount a few of the smaller ponies, while he and Jacob mounted their own horses. The six of them went riding just beyond the castle walls, leading their mounts all the way down to the beach, the children laughing as the ponies kicked up the wet sand coming in from the surf. However, despite her smiles, Helena looked a little downtrodden. "I wish Mama was feeling better; you should see her, Papa, she can actually ride a horse now!"

Erik cocked his visible brow at this. "Really?" He tried to imagine Christine atop one of his horses; his arms ached to hold her, as he imagined her small body high off the ground.

"She used to be terrified of them," Jacob continued, sitting tall and proud atop his own stallion, right next to his father. "But I helped her conquer her fear, and learn how to ride."

Erik glanced at his son, and felt his chest swell with pride. "I thank you for that, my son."

Jacob was beaming at his father's praise, and lifted his chin higher. "I did just as you asked, Father; I looked after my family and kept them safe…" however the proud gleam that illuminated his own golden eyes, began to fade, something which Sir Erik was quick to notice.

"You did your duty, Jacob," Erik emphasized. "I couldn't have left my family in the hands of a more capable soldier."

Jacob's smile, however, did not return, in fact, he only seemed to grow sadder. "But…I…I did fail you, Father…" he softly murmured. "I…I d-d-didn't see…I…I didn't…I didn't s-s-see Sir Raoul…"

Sir Erik quickly glanced up, glad to see that his younger children were too busy playing, to notice or hear Jacob's distress. He leaned his head down to the boy, and spoke in a soft, yet firm voice. "Hear me, Jacob; Sir Raoul's 'invasion' is not your fault. The castle guards weren't even aware of his presence, the man has obviously learned the art of surprise attacks." _Which I am sad to say…I taught him._ "You are not to blame for Sir Raoul."

"But had I been watching Christine more closely, I would NOT have put her in danger!" Jacob softly wailed, his face reddening more and more with shame.

Erik swallowed the lump in his throat as he remembered the revelation Christine had given him, about visiting the Continey's. Was she even aware of the danger she had placed upon herself? Thomas and Giselle Continey were driven mad by their grief, grief that Erik knew he was responsible for. Over the years, that grief had darkened into something uglier, and Erik would not put it past them to do something horrendous, all in the name of vengeance. It was amazing that Christine had gotten away from them at all! Of all the foolish things, _why_ did she do it? _Why_ did she go to them!?

_"She does it not to betray your trust, but so that she can help you!"_

"I should have told her everything, long ago…"

"Father?"

Erik's eyes snapped up, and he looked directly into those of his son, who gazed back at him with a look of confusion and worry.

"Father? Are…are you all right? You said something about…telling _her_ everything; who are you talking about?"

Erik shook his head, trying desperately to regain some composure. "I…'tis nothing," he mumbled under his breath, before turning his body to face his son. "But do not blame yourself, Jacob; I…I have long learned, that…no matter how many years of training you go through, no matter how many experiences you have on the battlefield…some enemies will outsmart you, or get the better of you…" he thought about the mask that he now wore, once again, after a blissful night of feeling Christine's lips and fingers caress the ruined flesh beneath. "That is simply the sad truth of being a knight…"

Jacob could see the haunted pain in his father's eyes, but was unsure exactly how to ask him about the cause of it. Far in the back of his memory, Jacob thought he recalled a time when his father did not always wear the mask that now made him infamous. Had something happened to him, upon the battlefield? Had an enemy outsmarted him? It was hard to believe; after all, he was the Black Knight! But as he looked at the giant man who sat beside him, his powerful shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and his fierce golden gaze looking sad and worried…Jacob began to realize that even the Black Knight…was human.

And nothing reminded him more about the mortality of his father, than the bandage that now adorned his father's tunic, just over his left shoulder.

Anger began to burn through Jacob's veins as he remembered the horrible sight of Sir Raoul, digging his blade into his father's flesh. "I wish you had killed him," he growled, the sound so low and guttural, that it shocked Sir Erik.

"Jacob…"

"Why did you let him live!?" Jacob asked, his eyes lifting to his father's, and Erik was surprised to see the angry tears that were glistening in his son's eyes. "He invaded our home! He was going to hurt Christine! And…and…" he couldn't hold back, he was sobbing now. "He…he t-t-tried…t-tried to k-kill you!"

The other children, who had been laughing and playing with their ponies on the beach, stopped immediately, and were staring at their brother with wide, concerned eyes.

Erik sighed and dismounted his horse, before lifting Jacob off his own mount, and carrying the boy down to the beach, where the other children were gathered. Jacob didn't protest, he clung to his father, his arms wrapped tightly around the Black Knight's neck, while he buried his face against the powerful man's shoulder, his tears soaking through Sir Erik's tunic. "Hear me, Jacob," Erik murmured, his voice soft and clear. "Hear me, all of you," he turned his eyes to all the children, as he sat down atop a rock, and placed his eldest son before him. "I am sorry you had to see that, I am sorry you had to witness…what I do," he spat with disgust. "I had always hoped that my life as a soldier stayed far away from my home…but I see that was only wishful thinking," he muttered, before gripping Jacob's shoulders and forcing the boy to look directly into his eyes. "Jacob, I understand your anger, and you have a right to be angry, as well as a right to be afraid."

Jacob sniffed and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his tunic, trying his hardest to stop crying. "Knights…knights a-a-aren't s-supposed to get scared…"

"That's not true," Erik growled. "I was _very_ afraid, when I saw Sir Raoul near your mother. And I was _very_, _very_ afraid…that night when I learned you were trapped in that cave, remember?"

Jacob nodded his head, remembering how frightened he had been, afraid that perhaps his father had died, in trying to rescue him.

"As for Sir Raoul," Erik murmured. "One thing I learned, over my many, many years of training to become a knight, was that…sometimes the bravest thing, that a man can do…is choose not to respond in anger or hatred."

Jacob's brow furrowed at his father's words, and the other children stepped closer, each looking curious at what Sir Erik was saying.

"I was very afraid, and very angry, when I saw Sir Raoul in the rose garden, near your mother. Sir Raoul and I…" he glanced at the twins and felt his throat tighten. "Sir Raoul and I have a long history; in fact…once upon a time, he and I were not enemies, but good friends."

Charles gasped. "What happened!?"

Erik sighed and looked down at the ground before him. "Sometimes, all of you do not get along. Like brothers and sisters who argue, so do friends. Sometimes Sir Raoul and I did not get along. And sadly, instead of trying to find a solution to our disagreements…we allowed them to destroy our friendship…and turn us into enemies."

Jacob swallowed the lump in his throat. "So…t-t-that's why you couldn't…couldn't kill him? Because you were once…friends?"

Erik lifted his eyes then and locked them with those of his son. "That's one reason, yes," he softly admitted, more to himself than to his children. "Another reason…was I did not wish to kill him in front…in front of your mother…" Christine would truly see him as a monster then. "And another reason," he murmured, "was…during all my years of training to become a knight, I…I was taught the value of showing mercy, even to those that you don't think deserve it."

Jacob looked down at his feet, as did all the children, a silent understanding slowly passing over them all.

"I have not always shown mercy," Erik whispered, feeling ashamed. "For a very long time, I believed it was more important to be feared, than admired. I wanted anyone who I fought to be so afraid of me, that they would retreat back to where they had come from, and tell everyone that those that fought the Black Knight, fought the Angel of Death, himself. But despite that reputation I built for myself…I never felt satisfaction or peace, I never felt…I never felt like…a hero," his voice was so soft, that the children had to lean in to understand him.

Jacob squared his shoulders and lifted his head high. "You're our hero, Father."

"Yes," Helena quickly agreed. "You are our hero."

Charles and the twins nodded their heads, before throwing their arms around their father and hugging him tightly, each murmuring over and over how they saw him as their hero, and not the monster that he believed himself to be. Erik took several deep breaths, trying his hardest to control the tears that threatened to fall, as he wrapped his own massive arms around his children, and hugged them fiercely to his body.

A wicked grin spread on Charles' face, and he gave a shout, before attempting to knock his father down. Helena and the twins giggled wickedly, and quickly moved to help their brother with wrestling Sir Erik to the ground. Erik laughed and allowed the children to playfully conquer him, happy and grateful for their love and affection. Was it not so long ago that he tried to avoid them like a plague? Was it not so long ago that he decided to marry a woman to keep his children out of his hair? How many years had he wasted, looking for excuses to run off into battle so that he could avoid the battle with his heart, hear at home, amongst his own children? He had been such a coward, and had it not been for Christine…

"Papa?" Charles' voice filled his ears. "Papa, will you also teach me how to use a sword, like Jacob?"

"Me too!" Helena gasped, bouncing up and down on her heels. "I can fight just as well as any boy!"

Erik couldn't help but laugh. He had no doubt that Helena could best many young knights-in-training. "I did promise Jacob I would see the accomplishments he has learned," Sir Erik announced, rising to his feet. "Let's take our mounts back to the stables."

The children grinned and quickly ran to fetch their ponies, which were contentedly munching on some of the seaweed that had washed up onto the shore, while Jacob and Sir Erik went to fetch their own horses.

"Father," Jacob murmured, as they remounted their stallions. "Thank you."

Erik looked a little confused by his son's words. "You are welcome, Jacob, but I confess I do not understand why I am worthy of your thanks."

Jacob smiled, allowing the younger children and their ponies, to race past he and his father, before he spoke again. "For telling me…about you and Sir Raoul," he explained. "I won't deny that I am still angry…and a part of me still wishes that you destroyed him," he confessed. "But…I understand why you didn't, now. And…I think what you did was right," he stated with pride, a smile spreading across his face.

Erik smiled back, although his heart still felt heavy. _One does not need to take a man's life, to destroy him,_ Erik sadly thought to himself. He glanced over at his son, who was still holding his head high, as they rode back to the castle. He was indeed very proud of his son, and it always amazed him, seeing his own likeness in the boy. _He's eleven years old…and has proven amongst my own men, to be a good soldier. He will make a splendid knight, if that is his wish._

"Jacob," Erik murmured, taking a deep breath as he spoke. "I…I owe you an apology."

Jacob turned his head, looking confused. "For what?"

"For leaving, as I did," Erik sighed. "I know I told you that I would take you with me, on my next mission…"

Jacob sighed and looked down, before lifting his eyes and forcing a smile. "It's alright, Father. You gave me a mission here, to protect the others. You don't need to explain yourself."

Erik's chest swelled at his son's words. "In my eyes, you are already a knight. And if that is your wish, my son, then I will do everything my power, to see that you become one."

Jacob's eyes lit up at his father's words. A huge smile spread across his face and it was obvious that the boy wanted to shout for joy. But instead, he allowed his own chest to swell with pride, just like his father, and with a wicked gleam, dug his heels into the horse's flanks, and took off across the field towards Winterbourne.

Erik threw his head back and laughed, before doing the same, racing his son back to the castle.

* * *

Christine watched from her chamber window, as Erik and the children left the beach atop their mounts. She was sitting on the window seat, her legs tucked up against her body, her arms wrapped around them, as her chin rested atop her knees. It was a beautiful sight, seeing her husband and the children together…and she longed to go and join them, her arms ached to be down there with them, to hold them, to laugh with them, to play with them…

"So why don't you, instead of sitting in here and moping?"

Christine gasped and turned her head, surprised to see Meg standing in the doorway of her chamber, holding a basket in her hands, her face looking sour as she gazed upon her friend.

"How…how long have you been standing there?" Christine asked, still shaken by her friend's sudden appearance.

"I've just come to return your laundry," Meg murmured, moving into the chamber and opening the cabinet that contained Christine's gowns. "And to answer your question, I've been standing here long enough to know that you don't belong in this room; you should be outside, with your husband and children, enjoying the summer weather."

Christine's face reddened, and she quickly rose from her seat. "I know, I know, I'm being mopey," she sighed, before her face paled with horror. "Good God, I'm turning into Carlotta!"

Meg's own eyes widened at her friend's words. "Bite your tongue! You don't want to invite the Devil's wrath, do you?" Meg's serious expression quickly gave way to a grin, and she burst into giggles. "Oh Christine, you will _never_ be like her, don't worry—what are you doing!?"

Christine was standing beside her friend, and helping her hang the dresses back into the cabinet. "What? Are you saying I can't hang my own dresses? I was a servant once, remember?"

Meg sighed and rolled her eyes. "Old habits," she muttered, before giggling again. Christine found Meg's giggles contagious, and the two quickly found themselves laughing together, until all the dresses were hung once more. Meg then turned to her friend, her amusement giving way to a more serious look, one filled with concern. "Now, why don't you give me the reason as to why you're in here…instead of out there?"

Christine wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, before sitting down on the bed. "I told him…about going to see Elizabeth's parents."

Meg sucked in a breath, and quickly sat down next to her friend. "And…how did he react to this news?"

"How would Robert react, if you went and did something you know he would not approve of?"

Meg let out a long sigh. "He would react the same way if he discovered I was lifting something heavy in my current state."

"_I_ would react that way if I learned you were doing such a thing," Christine challenged, narrowing her eyes at her friend. Meg was always stubborn, and it seemed in the final stages of her pregnancy, she was more stubborn than ever.

"Enough," Meg said with a wave of her hand, before turning the focus back on Christine. "So…he was upset?" she asked, biting her lip.

"To say the least," Christine murmured, sadly. "And I can't say that I blame him. It was foolish, Meg, it was stupid and foolhardy to go there in the first place."

Meg reached out and took her friend's hands in hers. "But you were only trying to help him, to learn what you could, to get to the bottom of—"

"Exactly!" Christine moaned, bolting to her feet and pacing the room madly. "I never intended to hurt him, I always believed in him, I always believed he was innocent of all the horrible things people accuse him of, even Elizabeth's parents! But…" she sighed and flopped back down onto the window seat. "It's as if…he doesn't wish to believe in his own innocence, that he doesn't want to defend himself! As if…" she paused and took a deep breath. "As if…he wants the world to think the worst of him…because he thinks the worst of himself."

Meg rose from the bed and went over to where Christine stood. "Did you explain your reasons for going?" she asked, softly.

Christine nodded her head. "I didn't give details, but…I did tell him that it was because I wanted to help him, that I never meant to betray his trust—"

"Beggin' your pardon, milady," Anne murmured, softly knocking on the open chamber door.

Christine rose to her feet and put on a smile, despite the sorrow she was feeling inside.

"I have a message from his lordship," the old woman explained. "I was told that he would like ye to come to his chambers within the next hour…and speak with ye in private."

Christine stiffened slightly at the message; she had to admit she was surprised that Erik would send someone to tell her to come and see him, when in the past, if he had something he wanted to say, he would come directly and do it. But instead of questioning the message, she curtsied, and said, "I will go and meet with Sir Erik as he requests."

Anne smiled and curtsied back, before leaving to deliver the message. Meg was also smiling. "See?" she grinned. "Sir Erik must have given some thought to what you said—I'm sure that after everything the two of you have gone through, it will be a good conversation, don't you think?"

Christine wanted to agree with her friend…but something deep inside her told her something was wrong. "It seemed…rather cold, didn't it? The message, I mean."

Meg made a face. "Christine, it was a message being relayed through several different people. Sir Erik probably didn't wish to give details, because it is a private matter between the two of you," a gleam lit the young woman's eyes, and before Christine knew what was happening, Meg had pushed her down onto the chair opposite her looking glass. "Oh, we shall dress you up in such a way that Sir Erik's breath will be stolen upon the time you enter his chamber!"

Christine blushed deeply at Meg's words. "Meg, I don't think that's necessary—"

"Hush," her friend interrupted. "For too long I've served a mistress who I despised; allow me the joy of serving one who is truly worthy of the title 'milady'."

* * *

Erik felt strange.

One minute he had been sitting and watching Jacob show him all the sword-fighting skills he had learned and perfected since his departure, and the next…a sudden, and mysterious wave of tiredness had overtaken him.

In truth, he was actually feeling rather light-headed and dizzy. Bernard, who had been standing nearby noticed the change in his master, and quietly approached him, while Jacob continued to fight the armored guard, showing off his skills.

"My lord? Are you unwell?"

Erik grunted at Bernard's words, praising Jacob yet again for his counter-attack, but his vision was starting to grow blurry. What was wrong with him?

"My lord," Bernard hissed. "I think we should get you inside."

"No," Erik growled, rising to his feet to push his steward away, however the movement caught him off guard, and had Bernard not reached out and grabbed his arm, Erik would have fallen flat on his face.

"Papa?" the children murmured, looking concerned. They had been sitting next to their father, cheering for Jacob as he fought, but now they all looked concerned.

"I'm alright," Erik muttered, pushing Bernard away from him and finding his own balance. "But…I do think my journey has caught up with me," he explained. "When I was traveling home, I barely slept."

"You should take a nap then, Papa," Sarah suggested, grinning brightly up at her father.

Erik smiled down at his daughter and nodded his head, instantly regretting the action. "Aye…I think…I think that would be wise."

Bernard moved to help his friend into the castle, but Erik lifted a hand, dismissing the help, and with careful steps, was able to stagger inside, and up the stairs to his bedchamber. As soon as he was inside, he threw off his tunic, and collapsed upon the bed, moaning as strange sensations beat against his brain.

His vision was blurred, his head was pounding, and he felt a strange tingling sensation all over his skin. It wasn't a fever, but it certainly was some sort of strange sickness!

Somewhere in the distance, he heard a door open. "Bernard," he muttered. "I only want peace!"

"'Tis I, my husband…"

Erik froze. Christine? He attempted to lift his head, but it felt like a heavy weight. His eyes narrowed as he tried to focus in on her figure, which was moving towards the foot of his bed. Had she come in through the secret passage?

"Erik…"

Her voice was like honey, the way it sweetly dripped from her tongue. And yet…there was something different about it, something…strange…

Even with her standing at the foot of his bed, he still struggled with seeing her. She had reached out and grasped the heel of one of his boots, and began tugging it, until it came off his foot. She did the same to his other boot, until it was also off. Then…without warning, she began to crawl up onto the bed.

"Christine…" Erik whispered, her dark head coming closer and closer. He couldn't see her face, it was all blurry…but he saw her beautiful brown curls, and he reached out to stroke his fingers through the silken tresses.

Christine seemed to jerk back when he attempted to touch her hair. Instead, she took his hand, and Erik groaned as he felt her soft, sweet lips, wrap around one of his fingers, and suck it deeply into her mouth. "Oooohhh God, Christine…"

"Yes, my love…" Christine purred, her velvety tongue lapping at his finger, promising him something more. "Allow me…" she whispered, as her fingers slowly moved down his body, caressing the muscles on his chest, before moving to the leather laces at his breeches.

Her touch felt different. Her hands were soft, yes, but…something was strange about them. Christine had such wonderful, soft, small fingers…but there was also a hint of roughness to them, for the many years of hard work she had endured as a servant. Yet now, her hands felt as smooth as the breast of a dove.

"Oh my!" Christine gasped, as she pulled his breeches down, releasing his pulsing manhood. Erik was on fire! It seemed that while his head was dizzy and his vision blurred, his cock was so hard, that it was painful! He needed release, and badly.

"Christine, come to me," Erik groaned, reaching up to grasp her shoulders and to bring her body down against his. Christine seemed to stiffen the second his arms wrapped around her, something that despite his delirious state, Erik was aware of. "My love, what is wrong?" he whispered, wishing that he could see her better. He longed to see her eyes, to read her emotions. Realization dawned on him then; she was upset, with how he behaved earlier. "Oh Christine, forgive me," he moaned, tilting his head up, longing to feel her lips against his own. "Forgive me for my foolishness. I should have never kept secrets from you…I love you…" he moaned, before finally finding the strength to capture head and bring her mouth down to his.

The kiss was strange.

Her lips felt strange, and they tasted strange. Erik lifted her mouth away from his and tried to peer into her eyes. Was it his imagination? They seemed darker…

Christine was very stiff; in fact, it felt as if she were pushing herself away from him. Yet she noticed the confused look on Erik's face, and before Erik could open his mouth to question her, Christine took a deep breath, and captured his mouth with her own, robbing him of his breath as she kissed him fiercely and deeply, her tongue plunging into his mouth and swirling with his. "Make love to me, Erik," she gasped against his mouth, when she lifted her head to catch her breath. "Take me, please! Make love to me!"

He longed for her, he wanted her so badly, and he tried to reason that the foreign feeling of her fingers, and the foreign taste of her kiss, were simply because of how strange he felt all over. Surely that explained it, yes? Yet something in the back of his mind was screaming for him to stop, that something was not right.

"Please, my love!" Christine moaned, and using all the strength that she had, rolled them over, until she was beneath his body. "Push my skirts up and take me!"

He had thought her voice sounded strange earlier…but now, he was certain. Christine never spoke like this…

"Erik, please!"

She sounded so desperate, perhaps even more desperate than he had been feeling moments ago. He knew Christine could be a most passionate lover, but this desperateness did not seem to come out of passionate longing…but out of a need to…for what, he wasn't sure?

And then, somewhere deep in his mind, a part of him screamed at him to do something that he knew, once and for all, would answer all questions.

"Yes, Christine…" he growled, before lifting his hands to his own head. "I will make love to you…" and without any word of warning, he pulled back his mask.

And his ears were filled with the sounds of Christine's terrified screams.

"OH GOD!" she screamed, pushing him away from her, her tiny fists beating against his body with all her might. "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU MONSTER!"

"Erik!?"

The door to Sir Erik's bedchamber burst open, and Erik lifted his head, his eyes narrowed and his breath stolen…as he took in the blurry sight of his beautiful wife…standing there, looking absolutely horrified.

Erik then looked down at the woman beneath him, and felt his jaw clench as he finally was able to take in her blurry features.

She was not Christine. Her face was round and plump, her skin was far too pale, and her eyes were not the lovely shade of blue that Christine's were, but a cold, dark color, almost black.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" the imposter shouted, pushing the stunned Black Knight off her body, before leaping off the bed…her brown wig falling to the floor, revealing her flaxen blonde waves.

"CARLOTTA!?" Christine gasped, her eyes taking in the sight of her former mistress. Erik growled at the sound of the woman's name, and attempted to scramble to his feet, but the mysterious illness that had fallen over him, still had an affect on his legs, and made it nearly impossible to stand.

Christine rushed towards the screaming girl, but Carlotta was faster. She picked up a stool that was near her leg, and threw it with all her might at her former servant. Christine stumbled over the stool, and before she could scramble back up, the tapestry that covered the secret passage was flipped aside, and Carlotta's screams could be heard as she ran down the passage. "DAMN YOU!" she shouted. "DAMN YOU AND THAT MONSTER!"


	38. Erik's Tale pt 3

Hello everyone! Finally, I am updating this wonderful story, after battling a little writer's block, and slow dial-up connections (I'm visiting my parents for the week). I do hope you enjoy this latest chapter, and, because I was at the Printer's Row Book Fair this weekend, in downtown Chicago, I also want to take this opportunity to promote my newest story, **The Mask and the Slipper**. I'm very excited about that story, so I do hope read it and enjoy it!

Also, I just wanted to announce, that June 13th is my birthday :oP I'm turning the big 2-7! And you guys are the best readers and reviewers a writer could ever hope for; thank you all for your support and encouragement! So without further ado...I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

* * *

**Summary: **In the midst of Carlotta's chaos, Sir Erik reveals the final chapter of his past... 

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Erik's Tale (part III)_**

"FIND THAT WITCH AND BRING HER TO ME!"

Carlotta trembled in the shadows of the secret passage as her ears were filled with Sir Erik's roar, and as she watched through a crack in the castle wall, Sir Erik's men, newly returned from the south, scatter about the castle and its grounds, searching for her.

The plan had backfired; it had all gone horribly wrong.

Carlotta gasped as she felt a strong hand close over her mouth, and she began struggling against the strong arms that held her back. "Shut up!" hissed an irritated voice. It was Philippe.

The two stood in silence, Philippe's hand still clasped to Carlotta's mouth, his own dark eyes fixated on the crack in the passage's wall, watching as the men moved about the castle, silently cursing to himself. "We can't stay here," he whispered. "They'll inspect the passages to be sure…come with me and don't make one sound!"

Carlotta mutely nodded her head, and did as her brother instructed, quietly following him down the dark passage, biting her lip to not allow anything that she swore was crawling or scampering over her slippered feet, to give her cause to scream.

* * *

Bernard was looking extremely agitated. Someone had tried to poison his friend! And it had happened under his watch! And on top of that, someone had snuck into the castle! Were Winterbourne's guards _that_ useless!? He turned his attentions back to his master and friend, who was sitting and fuming in a large chair, his eyes glaring out the window, as the men searched the castle grounds for the intruder, his fists holding tightly to the arms of the chair, the knuckles white with tension. 

Sir Erik, just like Bernard, wanted to get to the bottom of all of this.

"My lord," Bernard began, trying to sound as calm as possible, hoping that some of that calmness would rub off onto the Black Knight. "Do you recall at all, the man who gave you—"

"NO!" Erik roared, his frustration so great that it could not be contained. "For the FIFTH time, Bernard! I DO NOT recall the servant who brought me the drink!" Erik groaned and buried his face in his hands; God, how his head hurt. The after-effects of the drug seemed to be worse than when he was under its hypnotic spell.

_No, that's impossible. Seeing the pain in Christine's eyes is ten times worse than any headache…_

Bernard sighed, knowing that he was getting nowhere with asking the same question over and over. Unfortunately, Bernard had not been paying attention either! While young Jacob was displaying his sword fighting skills, a servant stepped forward and offered Sir Erik a wine goblet. It was a hot day, and anything sounded refreshing at that moment, so Erik took the goblet, drank it's contents, and with his eyes still locked on his son, returned the goblet to the servant.

Almost an hour later…Sir Erik seemed to have fallen prey to some strange illness, and excused himself from the courtyard. A few minutes after Erik had left the courtyard, his men returned, after their long southern journey. The children, who were still in the courtyard, gasped as they took in the sight of several large wagons, each led by two, strong draft horses, piled high with an array of goods: furniture, fabrics, tapestries, paintings, silver, jewels! Bernard had not known where Sir Erik had gone nearly a week ago, but he had suspicions that it was to visit Christine's former employers. It seemed that the journey had, in a material sense, been successful.

However, the homecoming for the Black Knight's men was very short-lived.

A loud roar shook the castle and the grounds around it, and Bernard knew to whom the roar belonged. He raced up the stairs to his master's bedchamber, only to bump into Christine who was running down the hall.

"Something has happened to him!" she cried out in a desperate tone, tears running down her face. "I think someone tried to poison him!"

Bernard moved past his mistress, and burst into Sir Erik's chambers, gasping at the sight of the powerful Black Knight, lying on the floor, maskless, and struggling to stand, like an infant calf. Bernard soon learned all that had happened, after quickly handing his friend's mask back to him. Sir Erik had gone to lie down, heard a noise, and then saw a woman approach his bed.

This was the part that was hardest to understand, and took a great deal of patience from Bernard. The reason for it being so difficult to understand was because it was obvious that his friend did not wish to dwell on it.

Whoever the woman was, she had pretended to be Christine. The illness that had befallen the Black Knight not only made it difficult to walk and stand, but also affected his vision; he could make out the shape of the woman, but he could not clearly make out her face, unless she was extremely close. The woman wore a brown wig, and spoke in such a soft voice, that it was difficult to pick up the differences between her voice, and Christine's. Clearly this drug was more toxic than anyone could comprehend! And no one was more upset, than Sir Erik himself.

"I'll wring her neck myself," Erik growled, low and deep, as he cradled his head in his hands.

Bernard sighed. "What I can't understand is how she got into your chamber…through the secret passage!? Only you and I know about—"

"Christine knows," Erik murmured. "I took her through it once." Christine; he had been such a fool, shutting her out all this time, and not once, had she ever shown disloyalty or distrust towards him. Well thanks to Carlotta de Coleville, that had changed…

"Is she the only one you told?" Bernard asked.

"Yes, I…I think…I don't know!" Erik groaned, his head throbbing. "I don't remember telling anyone else…but right now, I don't remember much about this morning!" he growled, his anger kindling more and more. God how he wanted to strangle that viper! He despised any kind of deceit; he was deceit's fool and had fallen prey to it too many times in his life! The answer as to why Carlotta had tried to trick and seduce him was simply answered in the sudden arrival of his wife. That was why Carlotta, pretending to be Christine, sounded so desperate. She wanted Christine to walk in and catch him with another woman! The witch was actually trying to destroy his marriage! And she may have succeeded; he hadn't seen Christine since she had run to fetch Bernard…

"Where is she?" Erik murmured, carefully lifting his eyes to those of his friend.

Bernard's brow furrowed. "Carlotta?"

"No, not Carlotta!" Erik growled in frustration, his head pounding more and more. "Christine," he softly explained, trying his hardest not to lose his temper. He did not think his head could handle another roar.

Bernard sighed and glanced towards the door. He had not seen Christine since he had run into her in the hall. He was not sure where she had gone, but like Sir Erik, he also shared the fear that perhaps Christine believed what she saw. "I do not know, my lord," Bernard murmured. "I'm guessing she is in her chamber…or possibly with the children?"

"That settles it then," Erik growled, before gripping the arms of his chair and carefully rising to his feet. His legs were still shaky, and the muscles in them burned! What had that witch done to him!?

Bernard gasped and quickly rushed over to Sir Erik's side, when the man nearly stumbled. "My lord, you are not in a fit state to leave this room, much less walk around."

"Out of my way," Erik growled, nearly pushing his friend aside.

"Erik," Bernard growled back. "Her chamber is on the other side of the castle! You won't even make it past the stairs—"

"I am STILL master here!" Erik snarled. "And if she won't come to me, then I am going to her!"

"You're not going anywhere…"

Both Bernard and Erik lifted their heads to the sound of the new voice, and Erik felt his breath catch in his throat, as his eyes took in the sight of Christine, standing in the doorway, holding a tray in her hands, and looking at him with deepest sympathy.

"Christine—"

"Bernard is right, Erik," she murmured, before putting the tray down. "In fact, you should be in bed, resting." Without another word, she moved to the bed and pulled the blankets back, before coming over to the stunned Black Knight's side, and placing her arm around his waist. "Bernard, help me please?"

Bernard bit back his smile and nodded his head. "As you wish, milady."

Erik was still stunned by her sudden arrival. She was there? He thought he would have to break her chamber door down just to get her to listen to him. And yet, without even being summoned or asked to come…there she was. And now, she was helping him into bed! "I can manage on my own," he grumbled, not liking the fact that he felt weak and helpless. Bernard glanced at Christine, who simply nodded her head, and the two of them released Erik, who was able to make it to the bed, before collapsing.

"Thank you, Bernard," Christine murmured, smiling at Sir Erik's steward. Bernard was no fool, he could tell that by Christine's simple words, she was kindly asking for some privacy with her husband.

"Milady," Bernard bowed, before lifting his head and smiling. His master was in good hands now, the best hands in fact. He should never have doubted Christine, and he hoped that Erik would soon realize that as well. "We will continue the search, my lord," Bernard murmured, before bowing once more, and quietly shutting the door behind him as he left.

Erik had heard Bernard's words, but his eyes had remained locked on Christine. She was still wearing the same gown he had seen her wear earlier, although now he could actually make out the details…and it looked exquisite on her. A deep, midnight blue, trimmed with silver thread and red velvet. The neckline was low, yet also modest. The cut of the gown flattered her curves, emphasizing her beautiful waist and hips. Her hair hung simply, and neatly, down her back and shoulders, and Erik felt his chest tighten when her soft, blue eyes, caught hold of his. More than anything, he wanted to hold her, to crush her against him and tell her how sorry he was, how sorry he was for being such a fool, for holding things back from her, for even thinking that she would be anything like the others…and especially for mistaking that harpy, for her. God, he did not know if he could even forgive himself for that.

"Christine—"

"May I?" she asked, her hands softly touching his masked cheek. He stared up at her, understanding completely what she was asking, and mutely nodded his head. He closed his eyes as he felt her little fingers untie the leather bands, and gently remove the mask from his head. Carlotta had screamed when she had seen his face, and long ago, Beatrice had told him how greatly it disgusted her. But Christine was the only person who looked upon him without disgust, and without revulsion. And it wasn't pity that filled her eyes…it was love.

"You're burning up," she murmured, her hand gently touching his forehead. Erik moaned at the cool touch of her palm; how could he have even thought that that demon's touch was the same as his sweet Christine?

She moved away from him, but only briefly, to remove a small bowl and a clean cloth, from the tray that she had brought. "Here," she whispered, dipping the cloth into the bowl, which contained water, and with the gentlest strokes, dabbed it across his forehead. "This will help with the fever…as well as your headache."

Erik swallowed; there were tears welling at the corners of his eyes. He was not worthy of her touch, let alone her kindness. "Christine, please—"

"Sshh," she whispered. "You don't need to say anything, Erik."

"Yes, I do," he growled, trying to sit up. "Christine, I thought—"

"Carlotta is truly wicked," Christine interrupted, her hand cupping her husband's face, her fingers softly caressing his disfigured flesh. "I always knew this, but I must confess, her evil today was not something I ever imagined…"

Erik reached up and held her fingers against his face, before lacing his own through hers and squeezing them gently. "I want you to know…that even though my senses weren't about me, I doubted," his eyes bore deeply into hers, and Christine sucked in a deep breath. "I doubted her touch…and I doubted her kiss…and when she begged me to take her—"

"Erik, you don't have to say anything more—"

His fingers lifted, and he placed his thumb, gently against her lips to silence her, before allowing his own fingers to caress her soft cheek. "I knew, deep in my heart, that something wasn't right," he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. "I knew that whoever she was…she was NOT you…and so I did the only thing I could think of, to confirm my suspicions…"

Christine swallowed and nodded her head, as several tears fell from her eyes. "I know," she whispered. "You put yourself at risk, you opened yourself up to ridicule and humiliation," her words were harsh and Erik could see a fire within her eyes. "And for that, I truly hate her," she growled. "I am angry that she tricked you, and I am even more angry that she tried to seduce you…but what angers me the most," she confessed, "is that she tried to convince you…that it was _me_, doing those things…and my greatest fear, when I walked in and saw you both," she took a deep breath, the memory repulsing her, "was…that when she screamed at you, for the briefest, most horrifying second…I feared that you would think it was _me_, screaming at you, and calling you those disgusting names…" she looked away, her tears silently flowing down her cheeks.

Erik, however, held her face in his hands, and gently urged her to look at him once more, his heart lifting in hope, amazed at the love she held for him. "I would never think that about you," he murmured, meaning every word. "That was why I did it; I knew that once I removed my mask…I would have my answer."

"Oh Erik," Christine gasped, as a broken sob escaped her throat. "You are NOT a monster, she is!"

"Hush, little one," he whispered, before gently drawing her against him. Christine did not resist, she easily went into his arms, curling up beside him on the bed, burying her face against his chest as she allowed her tears to flow more freely. Erik's lips brushed across her brow, as his fingers tangled themselves in her hair, relishing in the sweet feeling of having his wife, the woman he loved, in his arms once more. "Oh Christine," he whispered into her hair, holding her tighter. "Forgive me, please…please forgive me…"

Christine swallowed the sobs in her throat and lifted her eyes until she was gazing back at him. "F-f-forgive you?"

"Aye," Erik sighed, feeling nothing but shame. "For my foolishness."

Christine sat up, looking into his eyes, her brow furrowed with confusion. "Erik, she drugged you, you couldn't see very well, I realized that the moment I walked in," she explained. "She was wearing a brown wig, and you were calling her by my name…"

"I said before that I doubted her touch and her kiss, but I still should have realized—"

"Erik," Christine held his face in her hands. "You are not at fault, I know this. I do not doubt your love for me," she whispered, her eyes gazing deeply into his, speaking volumes of truth. "I trust you," she whispered, meaning every word. "I trust you completely, with my whole heart—"

"Stop, please," Erik interrupted, pain filling his eyes as he gazed back at her, pain and shame. "_Why_, Christine? Why do you trust me, when I have given you every reason not to?"

Christine was taken aback by his question. "I…I trust you because…well, because I love you," she answered, being honest. "And because I watched you…and I have seen you. You roar and growl and look fierce and dangerous, yet…I still remember finding you in the twins' bedroom, on that stormy night, holding them against your chest and softly singing them to sleep. I knew, in that moment if not before, that you were more than what people called you, that you were not simply a warrior, but also a loving father," her fingers found his, and laced them together. "And…when you held me in your arms, when you kissed me…and when we made love, you…" she blushed, but smiled at the memory. "You were so gentle with me, so careful…and you sang into my ear to calm and relax me. The past is the past, Erik, and while you may think ill of yourself, I know…that you are no monster, and I know that you are not capable of those monstrous things that your enemies cry out about you. I have seen and felt your love; you are more of a man than most men ever strive to become."

Erik gazed into her eyes, completely and utterly amazed. He must have done something good in this life…to have such an angel love him? "You say you trust me because you love me," he murmured. "Yet, you went seeking answers in dangerous places—"

"Yes, I know," Christine sighed, looking away, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry Erik, I truly am, I shouldn't have gone there, but please, please believe me!" she held his hands tighter as she turned her eyes back to his. "I did not go to the Continey's to betray you, I wanted to help you, I wanted to learn more about you, I—"

"I do not blame you, Christine," he whispered. "Truly, I don't. I blame myself, actually…" he sighed. "I was angry because I…because I had driven you into danger," he explained, his hands tightening around hers. "Thomas and Giselle Continey fiercely hate me."

Christine mutely nodded her head. She had gathered that upon meeting them, and it tore her heart in two, remembering the pain they felt, and thinking of the pain she must have caused her husband, upon learning of the danger she had placed herself in.

"It was my fault, though," he sighed. "I believe your words, I believe you when you tell me you were trying to help me by seeking answers, yourself. Had I told you everything in the first place, instead of shutting you out, you would not have gone there!" he growled, cursing his stupidity and stubbornness. "Christine, if anything had happened to you—"

"But nothing happened," she interrupted, before bending her head and kissing him, reassuring him with her lips. Erik sighed and kissed her back, holding her head to him, moaning as he once more tasted _her_ mouth; Carlotta's lips were nothing like Christine's, how could he have thought, even for a minute, that they were hers?

With a shaky breath, Christine lifted her mouth, but she remained close, her forehead touching his. "We are together, Erik; I am well and you are well. Your ghosts, the Continey's, Sir Raoul, and now Carlotta, they have all tried to separate us…and yet, we have proven them all wrong."

Erik couldn't help but smile, moved by her words, and he wrapped his arms around her and gently pulled her down, until she was resting against his chest. Unlike Carlotta, she did not resist his touch. "We have," he whispered into her hair, his arms tightening around her. "But my own stubbornness and foolish pride have tried to separate us as well; my own damn insecurities," he growled with self-loathing, his hold on Christine never loosening. "Well, that ends now…"

Christine turned her head, looking into his face with confused eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said," he murmured, his hand rising to smooth several fallen curls from her cheek. "The questions you have, little one, I am going to answer. I know I have revealed much already to you, about my past, but there is still much you don't know…"

Christine shivered slightly. "Elizabeth?"

"Aye," Erik sighed, his arms tightening once more, as he began his tale...

* * *

_Even though Beatrice had betrayed me, and revealed to me that she had been a spy for The Jackal, I blamed myself for her death. Beatrice was to be executed by the King's royal guard. On the day I received word that it had happened, I remember breaking into the castle's wine cellar, and drinking myself into a stupor; I believe it was then that the ghosts began to haunt me. Everywhere I turned, I swore I could see her, a strand of her fiery hair disappearing around a corner. When I closed my eyes, I swore I could hear her, whispering in my ear. But the worst was at night, when I tried to sleep. She would invade my dreams, taunting me with her body, murmuring in my ear how much she loved me, before stabbing me with a dagger, or ripping my mask off before a crowd, or other such monstrosities. She called me a murderer, that because of me, Jacob and Helena would never know their mother, and that they would hate me for the rest of their lives once they learned the truth. And I was weak; I believed her ghostly words, and avoided the faces of my children at all costs, for I knew that by looking at them, I would see her. Perhaps it was because for so many years, I thought she loved me? Or for so many years, I believed I loved her? Whatever the reason, the pain was intense, and I did many things to drown it. I drank until I could not stand, I wrote to the King, begging for any excuse to take me away from Winterbourne, and…now and then…I would seek company with other women._

_One of these women was Charles' mother. The encounter was quick and I never sought her out again after that night…but nine months later, in the midst of a torrential storm, a servant girl knocked on my door, holding a tiny child in her arms. The girl claimed the child was mine, and that she had delivered him from a woman in Valmour. When the woman was described to me, I knew who the girl meant, although I had never bothered to learn anything about her, even her own name. Raoul was with me that night; Bernard had written to him, asking him to come and try to talk some sense into me. Raoul thought the thing I needed was a wife, but I wanted nothing to do with another woman, and marriage was the last thing I wanted. But when the girl placed Charles in my arms, I realized that yes, this tiny boy was my son, and I began to think, once more, about Raoul's words. Perhaps I did need a wife? But not for the reasons Raoul was thinking. _

_A few years later I made up my mind and decided that I would marry. I had been called away on several long quests and battles, and I could tell that the children were growing restless. The servants were complaining about their mischief making, and how badly they needed discipline. I knew nothing about children, and was still reluctant to learn. I decided that the thing they needed, was a mother. I did not care who this woman was, I had no plans on knowing her in an intimate way, so I wrote to the King, asking for his aid in helping me find a bride. And to my shock, the King replied back, right away…and to my even greater shock, the bride he chose was also the daughter of a nearby neighbor. Elizabeth Continey…_

_I met with Lord Thomas to arrange the marriage contract, and it was quickly settled. Elizabeth would be my wife. Both Lord Thomas and I believed that it would be best to keep his daughter and myself apart, until the day of the wedding. One look at my masked face, and he no doubt thought the same thing. However, the following day after this meeting, I received word from the King about pirate bandits, attacking our eastern shores. He was not calling me to war, but rather to send some men to aid his army. However, this was the first pirate attack since I had killed The Jackal…and while I denied it, a part of me wondered if his ghost had returned, seeking revenge. I quickly replied to the King, asking him to give me this battle, to bestow upon me the honor of leading his men to war. The King was more than likely surprised by my request, especially since he knew I was planning my wedding, but without question, he granted it to me. I sent a message to Lord Thomas, telling him of my call to arms, and both he and I agreed that it would be wise for me to marry Elizabeth before I went off to war, so I made the arrangements to have the wedding take place at Winterbourne, on the day before I left. And word went out to all my tenants, as well as to Valmour, inviting them for the celebration. And Raoul and his men were also there; they were to join my men the following day. So as you can see, there was much going on, so much that I barely realized Raoul's misgivings…until it was too late._

"Erik!"

The Black Knight turned, a growl in his throat and his golden eyes narrowed. Erik's patience was extremely thin and he wanted to get this whole thing over with. "Later," he growled, his voice filled with warning as his eyes took in the sight of his handsome friend.

But Raoul was persistent. "Erik, I beg you, let me speak with you alone…"

"Now is NOT the time," Erik warned, giving his friend one last chance. A part of him was fuming over Bernard's accusation that he was seeking trouble, by still obsessing over The Jackal, even though the villain had been dead for several years. The other part of him was fuming over the way Raoul seemed to have fallen over himself when he had been introduced to Elizabeth. The girl was indeed beautiful, Erik could not deny that, but he had long ago resolved himself to his decision; he needed a mother for his children, not a wife for himself. And yet ever since he had revealed the truth to Raoul a fortnight ago…the blonde knight would not stop with trying to pull him aside and speak with him. Frankly, it was growing extremely annoying.

"Erik, don't make this mistake!" Raoul hissed, reaching out and grabbing hold of the Black Knight's shoulder.

Erik whirled on his friend then, grabbing hold of Raoul's wrist, and surprising his friend by actually twisting the wrist he held. "I will not have anymore interruptions," Erik growled, his voice deep and menacing as he glared into Raoul's hazel eyes. "This is my wedding day…and this foolishness will cease…now."

He released Raoul's wrist by thrusting it away from him, and his friend gasped when it was finally freed, before cradling it against his chest. But even despite this warning, Raoul refused to back down.

"Erik, answer me this final question, and I will cease my own."

Erik rolled his eyes; did the man not know when to quit?

Raoul did not bother waiting for Erik to acknowledge his words. "Do you love her?"

Erik stopped his walking and turned to stare at his friend, his face paling at the man's words. "What!?"

Raoul straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin, his own eyes fiercely boring into Erik's golden gaze. "Do you love her?" he repeated.

What on earth was Raoul babbling about? What on earth did love have to do with any of this!? He was marrying Elizabeth Continey because the King had made the match, based on requests made by both Lord Thomas and himself! She was young, yes, only sixteen years old…a child in her own way, really, but she seemed mature, at least based on everything Lord Thomas had told him, and she certainly looked like the obedient, docile wife that he had been promised. She would make a decent mother for the children, he believed, and that was all that mattered, even Raoul knew that! So why was he asking such strange questions?

"You know my intentions," Erik growled.

"Aye," Raoul nodded his head, his chest swelling with each passing second. "But does she?"

Erik cocked his visible brow. "Why does that matter to you?"

"Because she is an innocent!" Raoul declared, almost too loudly. Several people who were standing nearby turned to look at them. "I am no fool, Erik, love is a rare thing in any marriage, especially amongst the nobility, I have witnessed that with my own eyes," he growled. "But you speak as if you are not even going to bother allowing the _possibility_ of it to take place! You have made your plans, but what of hers? Does she not have a right in all this? She is a person, Erik, not an object! She will be your wife, not your servant!"

"ENOUGH!" Erik roared, his finger in Raoul's face, his eyes glaring back at the blonde knight, the muscles on his neck pulsing with growing anger and irritation. "You and I have been friends for a great many years, and tomorrow, we travel together to join the King's army. Do _not_ push me, Raoul; I'd hate to see you as my enemy…and you'd hate it too, trust me," he hissed, his voice filled with venomous promise.

He turned on his heel then, stalking away, determined to find the priest and get the whole thing over with. But the words that followed caused all the blood in his body to freeze…

"If you will not have her for the wife she is meant to be…then let me have her, I beg of you!"

Time froze all around them, and Erik slowly turned, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Raoul stood there, looking just as shocked as his friend, at the words that had just spilled forth, however he puffed up his chest and held his head high, and anyone could see, simply by looking into his eyes…that he meant every word.

Erik narrowed his eyes and glared back at his friend, although friendliness was the last thing he was feeling for the handsome man, at this moment. "So that's it," he growled. "You have been struck by lightning due to her pretty smile, eh?"

Raoul glared back at the Black Knight. "She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, that I cannot deny," Raoul muttered. "But it is deeper than that; I have always envied you, Erik, I have always wanted what you were given…and now…" he snarled. "I want what you aren't even interested in…"

Erik's eyes became two, harsh gold slits. "Elizabeth will be my wife; by order of the King, she will be my wife!" he hissed. "And you sir, will remain silent. If I hear one word about you causing any sort of trouble during this celebration…I will see to it, personally, that you are locked away, and inform the King at once of your treachery."

Raoul lifted his chin. "So that's it, then? You will not even consider my words, let alone listen to my reasoning?"

"Nay," Erik growled. "I am finished listening to you, Raoul, in fact I think I have listened to you far too much," he spat, before once more turning on his heel, and stalking away, leaving the handsome, blonde knight, standing there, staring daggers into the Black Knight's back as he walked away.

"So be it," Raoul whispered. "From this day onward, Erik…we are enemies."

_During the entire ceremony, I barked my answers to the priest, and barely looked at my bride; I was so angry by Raoul's insolence that I couldn't think of anything else! The rest of the evening, he and I avoided one another, and with good reason. Had I known what he had done, the battle between he and I would have happened that very night!_

* * *

Christine sucked in a breath, the gentle ministrations of her hands, dabbing the cool cloth over his head, ceasing momentarily. Erik was resting his head on her lap, and he looked up at her, sensing her tension. "I assume Thomas spoke to you about this…"

Christine simply nodded her head. "He said…he said that Sir Raoul approached him, both before and after the wedding, begging for Elizabeth's hand," she whispered.

Erik nodded his head. "I learned this later, myself."

Christine's eyes narrowed with confusion. "Did Elizabeth's father tell you?" If so, why then did her husband allow Sir Raoul to accompany him and his men to war?

"Nay," Erik murmured, his eyes closing briefly as the memory returned. "Raoul told me…"

* * *

_I had no intention on having a wedding night; after all, I did not marry Elizabeth for that reason. So after the feast, I gave my permission for Lord Thomas to take her home, that I would see her again, when I returned. I was still fuming over my argument with Raoul, and my obsession with the upcoming battle was also weighing on my mind. If I had been paying attention, I would have realized how distraught Lord Thomas looked…as well as noticed that my bride was missing…_

_Before the sun rose, we left Winterbourne, both Raoul's men and my own, heading east to where the King's spies had last seen the villains. Throughout our journey, Raoul and I continued to avoid one another, however I do recall seeing him with his head bent low, as if something were troubling him, but I assumed his woes had something to do with my recent wedding, and believed that soon, he would forget about his momentary infatuation with Elizabeth, and move on to other conquests. Sadly, I was to be proven wrong about this…_very_ wrong._

_We reached the eastern coast before dawn the following day, and under the cover of darkness, approached the camp of our enemies, prepared to take the surrendered as prisoners, and the defiant as trophies. I denied it then…but now, I can not lie; I was disappointed that they were not The Jackal's men. Clearly, I was not aware how deep my obsession for revenge ran, even though my greatest foe was dead. I blamed him for turning the woman I loved away from me…and I blamed him for Beatrice's betrayal. It was because of him, that I had been forced to turn her over to the King's guard, and live with the guilt that I was responsible for her death. And even though these pirates were not connected to The Jackal…I fought them as if they were. Instead of taking prisoners, I slaughtered the men who had fallen to their knees, begging for their lives. Amongst their faces, I kept seeing his, hidden by that scarlet scarf, his dark eyes mocking me. I did not stop swinging my sword...until I realized that the ground beneath my feet was slick with their blood. _

_There were still others out there; several had fled in fear of my sword's wrath. I wanted to chase after them, but Bernard urged me not to, saying that it was important to take our own injured back to camp, and draw out a plan on how to capture the others, as well as seize their ship. Yet that night, while all the others slept…I foolishly snuck out, determined more than ever before, to find these scoundrels and end this! I am an excellent tracker, yet that night, my own obsession blinded me, for I was not aware that I had a shadow…_

Erik spied over the ridge to where he saw several dying campfires. Several of his best spies had informed him that the few pirates who had survived, had moved their camp several miles southward, in hopes of avoiding the Black Knight and his men. No doubt he had frightened them…which was exactly what he wanted. Yet now, he knew he would not be satisfied until he added all their corpses to the mass grave his men had dug the other day.

He drew Ghost Maker, prepared to sneak down and attack…however, the sound of a twig snapping just behind him, caused the masked knight to whirl around, the blade of the sword extended to strike whoever it was…only to have his blade clash with another.

"RAOUL!?" Erik hissed, keeping his voice low, but his eyes going wide at the sight of his friend, who had nearly snuck up on him.

Raoul was the first to lower his sword, and Erik soon followed, however, the dark knight kept his eyes upon the other, suspicion hidden within their golden depths. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I must speak with you," Raoul insisted, his voice also quiet, yet much more desperate.

Erik rolled his eyes, trying his hardest to stay calm. "And you felt _now_ was the _only_ time?" His eyes narrowed then as he saw the way the handsome knight was looking everywhere and anywhere…save for Erik's masked face. "What are you hiding…?"

The blonde knight lifted his head, before quickly looking down once more. "Erik…I know what I asked of you the other day was in bad taste; after all, it was your wedding—"

"I do not deny that she is beautiful, but surely she is not the _only_ girl—"

"I love her, Erik."

Erik froze at Raoul's words. _Love?_ Did his friend, a famous bachelor…actually say that he was in _love?_

"I love her…I do, Erik. And…God, it hurt to watch you marry her, knowing that you would never love her the way I love her! Condemning her to a loveless life—"

Erik reached out and grasped Raoul by the corners of his tunic and practically hoisted him up off the ground. "How can you claim to love her!? You only just MET her!"

Raoul struggled against Erik's hold on him, his fists pounding against the Black Knight's arms. "Did…did you not fall in love with Beatrice…at your first meeting?" he managed to get out, while struggling. The next thing Raoul knew, was that he was falling; he landed on the ground rather hard, and coughed as he glared up at Erik.

Erik simply returned that glare with one of his own. "_Never_ speak her name again," he snarled, his voice filled with warning and venom. "And you're NOT in love with Elizabeth; you are infatuated by her beauty…that is all!"

"Nay," Raoul shook his head. "I love her…and she loves me."

Erik's eyes widened slightly at these words, and his fingers squeezed tightly around the hilt of his sword. "What?" he asked, his voice so low, the earth trembled beneath their feet. The man was obsessed! He actually believed that the Black Knight's bride was in love with him! However, when Raoul refused to back down, holding his head high, just as he had done that other day, Erik felt his anger increase...as well as his shock.

"It's true, Erik, she loves me…she told me so, herself!"

The man was insane, the same sort of insanity he had experienced years ago, when he had met Beatrice. Raoul was convinced the girl loved him, when it was his own madness that drove him to such beliefs. "She _doesn't_ love you, Raoul!" Erik hissed, his hands tightening into fists; he was fighting the urge to slam them into his friend's jaw. "You suffer from madness! You believe what you do not see! Trust me, I know, I've been there!"

But Raoul shook his head. "Nay, she is not like Beatrice, she is pure in her heart, pure in her intentions and feelings! And I have proof!"

The words that followed froze Erik to the core.

"She begged her father to reconsider, we both did! I spoke with him both before and after the wedding, I begged him to annul the marriage, and she stood by my side the whole time! I—hlph!"

Whatever Raoul was going to say next, he was cut off when he felt the fierce, iron grip, of Sir Erik's massive fist, wrap around his neck and squeeze. "YOU TRAITOROUS FIEND! YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE A FOOL!" Good God, what if Lord Thomas told the King? Did Raoul not realize that he could be facing death for betraying the King's order? It was treason!

"I had to!" Raoul managed to gasp, struggling fiercely against Erik's grip. "Y-you...you d-d-did not l-love her...y-y-you w-w-would not g-g-give her a chance!" his face was beginning to turn blue. "If...if you a-a-are going to k-kill me...do it then! I...I w-w-would r-rather die than l-live without her!"

Erik could not believe what he was hearing! This madness was ten times worse than anything he had ever experienced with Beatrice! Raoul—

Whatever thoughts were going through Erik's mind ceased, when a sharp whistling sound zoomed past his ear. He released Raoul and turned, his eyes wide as he saw two men, one holding a sword, the other a bow and arrow...aimed directly at him. Before he could even draw his own sword, another arrow escaped the pirate's bow, and hit him directly in the chest.

"AHHH!" Erik roared, before falling to his knees, gasping from the hit and the intense pain that followed it. God it hurt to breathe; it was as if the arrow had pierced his lung!

Raoul lifted his stunned eyes to the two pirates, both of whom were laughing maniacally at catching the King's most prized knight off guard. Erik was trying to get to his feet, but Raoul could see that he was struggling. The blonde knight lifted his eyes once more, catching the gaze of the bowman, who was loading another arrow onto his bow, no doubt for him this time! Without hesitation, Raoul let out a battle cry, and charged at the two pirates, both of whom seemed stunned by Sir Raoul's attack. The one with the sword leapt in front of his friend, his weapon lifted to attack, but Raoul was faster. He easily spun around, dodging the swordsman's blow, before thrusting his own blade into the man's belly. The pirate grunted in shock, before falling into the mud beneath him, gurgling his last breath as blood gushed from his mouth.

The other villain, stared in shock, glancing back and forth between his friend who now lay dead at his feet, and the blonde knight who had killed him. He quickly lifted his bow, prepared to fire, when a loud "whooshing" sound filled the air, before ending with a stunned, bloody gurgle...resulting in the bowman falling backwards...Ghost Maker lodged deeply into his chest. Raoul whipped his head around, his eyes wide, as Sir Erik collapsed once more to his feet, gasping from the pain of the arrow, still lodged in his chest. Throwing that sword had taken all his strength...

"Erik!" Raoul rushed over, dropping his sword and gripping the arrow. "Lie still, let me try..." he attempted to pull the arrow out, but it only resulted in the Black Knight swearing, and more blood spilling.

A new noise soon joined Sir Erik's curses; Raoul turned his head as he heard a commotion coming from below the ridge. The few other pirates that remained were no doubt wondering where their other two friends had gone...and would soon come looking for them. He was a good fighter, but there was no way he could handle more than four at a time. He looked down at Erik, whose breathing was growing thinner and thinner with each passing second. Was there anything he could do for his friend? The man needed help! But would he last that long?

The noise was growing closer and closer. Raoul had to make a decision right then a there; stand and try to defend his friend, which would most likely result in both their deaths...or leave Erik there, hoping that if they found him, they would believe he was dead...which would buy time for Bernard and the others to come to his rescue.

And then Raoul thought about Elizabeth...

If Erik died...she would be free.

Free to be _his_.

"R-r-r-raoul..." Erik's voice was nothing more than a stuttering groan. His vision was becoming blurred; all he could make out was his friend leaning over him, looking at him strangely...

Raoul did not hesitate, he grabbed the sword out of the dead man's chest, and placed the blade into Sir Erik's weak hand. "Use this if you must; I will send for help."

Erik tried to sit up, but he couldn't lift his head. His entire body felt so heavy, and it was growing darker and darker...

"Be strong, my friend," Raoul murmured once more, before quickly rising to his feet and sheathing his own sword. He then began to move away, his pace increasing more and more, with every step, carrying him further and further away from the field. With a groan, Erik collapsed fully onto his back, his entire vision going black...and the last thing he heard was Raoul's faint, "Goodbye..."

* * *

"But you didn't die, like he had hoped..."

Erik opened his eyes and looked up to see the beautiful vision of his wife's face, gazing down at him, her fingers running through his hair, while her other hand rested against his good cheek, her touch soft and cool. "Nay," Erik whispered, however Christine's eyes held the same regret and sadness that he felt deep in his heart. He did not die that day, but the long friendship that he and Sir Raoul once shared, died. An agonizing death, one that sadly seemed to be continuing, all these years later...

"And Elizabeth?" Christine whispered, her fingers not ceasing their gentle caresses.

Erik sighed and turned his face towards her hand. "Bernard noticed I was missing, as did Sir Raoul's own men. Within an hour, they found me, barely breathing. To this day, I don't know how those fiends did not find me and finish me off first. Raoul's men went in search of their master, but found no trace of him...save that his horse was missing. Within a few days I could sit and move, although quite weakly, and despite Bernard's protests, I climbed atop my horse, and rode with all speed towards Winterbourne...only to learn that what Raoul had told me, had happened."

Christine sighed and nodded her head. "Anne told you how she found them together?"

"Aye," Erik growled. "Which immediately answered my question as to whether Raoul was speaking the truth, about Elizabeth loving him, or at least about her being weak-willed when it came to a handsome face," he grumbled with disgust. "I rode to the Continey's, furious not only by the betrayal of my friend, but also by my own bride. Lord Thomas then revealed to me, when I confronted him, that Raoul had indeed spoken with him, twice, about having the marriage annulled. He tried to defend the actions of his daughter, claiming that she had been seduced, that she was a good girl, that she would be an obedient wife to me, but I was finished with her. I demanded to see her myself, and when Lord Thomas would not allow me entrance into his home, I pushed the man aside and barged in on my own, stalking to the room I believed to be hers, overturning the house as I went...only to find—"

"She was already gone," Christine finished, remembering the story the Continey's had told her.

Erik looked up at her, and silently nodded his head. "Aye, she was gone, much to the surprise of her own parents. They had no idea where she had disappeared to, but to this day, they blame me for her disappearance..." he closed his eyes and felt the pain return once more to his head. "And they are right; because of my anger, she did disappear...and they never ever saw their daughter again."

Silence passed between them, and Christine nibbled her bottom lip as memories from her visit to the Continey's returned. "Erik?" she whispered. "Is it...is it true that you...that you took—"

"I did," Erik interrupted, knowing what she was going to ask, knowing exactly what Thomas and Giselle had told her...and deep in his heart, knowing that he had done them wrong. "I did see to it that their land was seized, as well as their wealth, titles...everything. I blamed them for their daughter's betrayal, believing that she had a weak character because they raised her badly, and I believed everything Raoul had once warned me against, that they were truly only interested in my wealth, and my connections to the crown. So I wrote to the King, and because he held me in such high favor, he granted my request, he turned the Continey's into paupers...and placed a bounty on Sir Raoul's head."

Christine gasped, her eyes widening at her husband's words. "Sir Raoul is a wanted man?"

Erik sighed and nodded. "Aye, and it amazes me that he is still alive after all these years; I had assumed that he was dead...or at least living someplace far away. But the small fortune that he had made while a soldier in the King's army was removed completely, and his home was seized, and all his men were forced to turn their backs on him. Any man caught aiding him would be declared a traitor to the crown, and executed. Because of my wrath, I had exiled both Raoul and Elizabeth...and because of my jealous anger...I also succeeded in keeping them apart."

Christine stared at her husband, confused and surprised by everything he had just said. "But...but how do you know that?" she whispered. "How do you know that they were never reunited...unless...unless she..." it all began to become clear. Christine's suspicion, after meeting Elizabeth's parents, once more resurfaced. "She returned to you..." Christine whispered.

Erik could tell by the simple light in her eyes...that she had put the pieces of the puzzle together. "Aye," he whispered. "She returned, one cold, winter evening, starving and half frozen...and holding two crying babies."

"The twins," Christine whispered. "Sarah and Sabrina...they are Elizabeth's children."

"They are," Erik confirmed. "And with her dying breath...she begged me to raise them...as if they were my own."

The words spoke volumes; the twins were Elizabeth's own daughters...and though Erik did not say it, Christine now knew the truth.

Sir Raoul...was their father.

* * *

Philippe led his sister down the passage, and then, instead of continuing onward, he paused and moved to what looked like a dead end…but much to Carlotta's shock, he ran his hands over the stone surface of the dead end…until he found a mechanism of some sort. With wide eyes, she watched her brother roll away a large stone, revealing yet another passage! "Come," he hissed. Carlotta only nodded her head and immediately went through the passage. Philippe rolled the stone back, sealing their entrance if any should seek them in the passage.

"I can't see anything!" Carlotta grumbled. "Oh God! I just felt something rub against my leg!"

"Don't you dare scream," Philippe grumbled with disgust. "I know this passage by heart, just take my hand, and follow my steps."

Carlotta wished she could see her brother's face, because she wanted to show him her stunned confusion at what he had just said! He knew this passage by heart? What on earth did he mean by that!? For the last few weeks, they had been near Winterbourne, hiding in Valmour, but as far as Carlotta was aware, Philippe always stayed in the village; when did he have the opportunity to learn about these secret tunnels?

"Philippe, what do you—"

"Quiet!" he hissed.

"But—"

"SHUT UP!" It was taking every ounce of willpower he contained to not shout, and to not abandon her in the darkness. Instead, he grabbed her hand and tugged her behind him, careening through the dark tunnels, counting his steps, and recalling all the instructions he had been given.

When it seemed that they had gone a good distance, Carlotta finally spoke. "Philippe…how do you know all this?"

Philippe didn't answer her question. He was too angry with the way things had gone. "We had them," he growled. "We had them in our grasp, and YOU went and spoiled everything!"

Carlotta gasped, anger flaring in her eyes, despite the darkness. "I didn't want to do it in the first place!" she hissed. "And how was I supposed to know that he was going to—"

Philippe was laughing, although anyone could tell that it was a dark, dangerous laugh, one filled with cynicism. "You constantly surprise me, dear sister," he growled. "One minute you're burning for the Black Knight, the next, you can't stand the thought of him! Which is it, Carlotta? Because you can't be mistress of Winterbourne, without being his wife!" His sister's vanity obviously took away her ability to think clearly.

Carlotta was fuming, and she sent a piercing gaze to her brother's back…or what she was sure was his back, in the darkness. "You didn't see his face!" she hissed. "It's HORRIBLE! He has bone showing! And…and…p-p-pieces of his nose…m-m-missing," she whimpered, trembling at the memory.

However, if she were seeking sympathy, her brother was not going to give it to her. "This was our CHANCE, Carlotta! Do you know how difficult it was to plan all this? To not only slip him the drug, but to also sneak into the castle, inform that old woman about Sir Erik's message, and then wait for just the right moment, for Sir Erik to escape to his room…and for Christine to come at just the right time?"

"I tried!" Carlotta screeched.

"Ha!" Philippe mocked. "You call that trying? A true seductress would have had him coming a second time by then," he snarled, not caring if his words were vulgar. "I guess we underestimated the effect Christine has on him…"

Carlotta was trembling with anger, but the moment he mentioned Christine's name, she couldn't contain herself any longer, she threw back her head and let out a high pitched, angry scream, one that would put the most temperamental child to shame.

"BE QUIET!" Philippe hissed. The last thing he needed was for Sir Erik's men to discover this passage. "CARLOTTA, BE SILENT!"

"Shut that bitch up, now!"

Carlotta's scream immediately came to a stop, at the sound of the mysterious, cold voice. Whoever had spoken, was standing right in front of them, but the darkness kept the person concealed.

A shiver ran down the spoiled girl's spine; the voice was not only cold, but also deep. And very, very dark…

"The plan backfired," Philippe muttered with disgust.

"I thought it might," the voice whispered. "Erik is a strong man, and even when his senses are dulled…he is still a force to be reckoned with."

Philippe muttered something incoherent, but it sounded like a curse. Carlotta's head was still reeling at the realization that there was someone else with them in the passage…and that Philippe knew this person! Why didn't he tell her someone else was involved? She thought this was _their_ plan, _their_ plot to destroy Christine, and for her to take her rightful place as the mistress of Winterbourne!?

"Come," the voice whispered. "Let us return…"

"Return?" Carlotta asked, fed up with being kept in the dark…both figuratively and literally. "Return where!?" she demanded. "WHO ARE YOU!?"

Philippe groaned, fighting the urge to turn around and backhand his sister. She could be such a pain, at times.

"She might as well know," murmured the voice to Philippe.

Philippe couldn't see the person speaking, but from the sound of their voice, he had a good idea as to where they were standing. "But I thought—"

"She's your sister, Philippe…surely _you_ trust her?"

Carlotta tapped her foot on the stone floor in a rather irritated fashion, waiting for Philippe to agree with the voice.

"Very well," he muttered.

Carlotta folded her arms across her chest, feeling rather proud of herself for getting her way, finally, after such a long time of not having it, and waited for the voice to reveal whoever they were.

There was a snap of the fingers, and a spark of light suddenly illuminated the tunnel…as a large, burly-looking man, with a baldhead, appeared, holding a torch and slowly approaching the person who had snapped. Carlotta peered into the dim light, and was finally able to make out the person who had been standing before them the whole time.

"Who are you?" she asked, her eyes moving up and down the stranger in a somewhat admiring fashion.

"I am the one who taught your brother all about these tunnels," the stranger simply spoke. "And right now…that's all you need to know."


	39. Parents and Children

**Hi all!** _**"Tapestry"**_ is actually beginning to wind down! The final chapters are on the way, so like the countdown to _Harry Potter #7_...so begins the countdown to the end of this story. BUT there is still a lot more to happen! And several mysteries to solve ;o)

**ALSO! IMPORTANT NOTE!** At the end of Chapter 38, Philippe and Carlotta encounter a mysterious stranger in the secret passages; I just want to make it clear that the burly man mentioned is NOT the stranger they were talking to, but rather, a "goon" of the stranger's; it says in the last few paragraphs that the stranger snapped their fingers, and the burly man appeared with a torch, approaching the person who had snapped. I just wanted to clear up any confusion--the stranger and the burly man are NOT the same person.

With that out of the way...on with the latest chapter!

* * *

**Summary: **Sir Erik recalls the night his twin daughters came to Winterbourne...and a mysterious visitor arrives just in time to help a desperate family...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Parents and Children_**

_Christmas._

_A night meant for joy and peace, family and love...yet what did it contain for him? Bitterness, coldness, and painful memories…_

_The servants had prepared a delicious feast, the children had all received presents, and from his chair in the great hall, Erik observed the whole spectacle, like a falcon that overlooked a forest. One of his children, Charles his youngest, climbed up onto his lap earlier in the evening, despite Erik's surprise and stiffness. The boy was only three, and obviously had not yet learned, like his older siblings, that he was not the sort of man who "cuddled" one's children. That was what mother's were for; yet he had failed his children twice, in that area._

_One mother was a villain, an evil temptress who used her skills of seduction as a way to gain information and get whatever she wanted. She was not capable of producing real love, and Erik very much doubted that Beatrice was even capable of having a mother's love._

_The other was also a traitor, like Beatrice, but in a different sense. She was supposed to be the mother of his children, as well as obedient and docile, but it turned out that Elizabeth was easily corrupted by a handsome face and a few charming words. A part of him did wonder, now and then, what had become of her, but whenever those thoughts wandered into his head, he was quick to tell himself that it didn't matter; because of her actions, she had exiled herself from the land, and would most likely never return. Raoul had also been exiled; like Elizabeth, his exile was by his own choosing. Yet what choice did he have? Upon learning of Raoul's treachery, the King seized Raoul's land and his miniscule castle, and placed a bounty over the handsome knight's blonde head. Unless Raoul wanted to spend the rest of his life in the stocks, or chained to some cold, castle wall, then it was for the best that he kept himself as far away as possible from the kingdom. Sometimes Erik thought about his former friend, the man who he had once trusted, who he had once listened to for advice; he wondered what Raoul was doing in that moment, whether or not the man was suffering from hunger and thirst, having to steal in order to get by. He wondered if Raoul cursed him with every day that past, if Raoul sat and actually attempted to make out a revenge plan? And he sometimes wondered if, in the misery of their exile…if Raoul and Elizabeth had found their so-called paradise once more, in each other's arms?_

_Beatrice, Raoul, Elizabeth; they all had betrayed him in some way. The lesson there was to never allow anyone to get truly close to you._

"_Papa? What's this?"_

_Erik winced and could not help but let out a growl, as Charles' chubby finger poked at the old arrow wound on his chest. It had only been nine months since the infamous battle when Raoul abandoned him with an arrow sticking out of his chest. The boy was startled by the sound, and quickly crawled down from the Black Knight's lap, and rushed over to where his brother stood. Erik caught the eyes of his eldest son, and once more felt his breath leave his throat as he gazed back at a face that reminded him so much of how he looked, when he was eight years old. Erik remembered the look Jacob gave him, and he felt another tremble go through his body as he recalled the cold stare that the boy gave him. He was only eight years old! And yet Jacob seemed to have mastered the von Desslar glare._

_It was late now, well past midnight. The children had been taken up to their beds hours ago, but Erik had not once moved from where he sat. The servants had all gone to bed as well, leaving him alone, staring into the fireplace, which offered the only source of light for the entire room. He was all alone now…alone with his ghosts._

_Sometimes at night, he would hear Beatrice, whispering his name, her nails scratching along the bed sheets. On a few occasions, he was visited by the specter of Charles mother, the prostitute who blamed him for her death, weeping and wailing the whole time, her raven hair falling about her like a black waterfall. And sometimes he heard the evil cackles of The Jackal, and awake with a start, at the sound of a sword being unsheathed. It seemed that the only time he could find peace was when he was away from Winterbourne, but even when he was away and fighting, guilt stabbed at him for leaving the children. But what could he do? He knew nothing about raising children! He didn't even know where to begin! They needed a mother badly…_

_Erik's brow creased slightly, as he recalled the strange dream he had had the other night. It was a dream that only occurred on the rarest of occasions…and while it was strange, it was not awful. In the dream, he was climbing the stairs to one of the towers in his castle, a tower that was rarely used, but that overlooked the landscape all around Winterbourne. The land that surrounded his home was plain and rocky, nothing like the landscape in his dream, which was surrounded by endless beds of roses. He climbed the tower steps, higher and higher…until he reached a room that he had never known existed…but there, he would find a woman, standing with her back turned to him, staring out at the horizon from a single window. Who was she? He did not know; the dream always ended before he could see her face. But the other night, he swore he could make out her hair, which had always been blurry in the past. Long, flowing, with somewhat unruly curls…and brown, like the earth beneath his feet. Who was this brown-haired maiden? Every time he opened his mouth to ask her name, she disappeared, and he would awake to find himself alone in the darkness. It was a shame that it was only a rare dream…for as far as his dreams went, it was the only pleasant one he ever had._

_Erik lifted his goblet to his lips, only to find that it was already empty. He was tempted to pour himself another cup of wine, but a part of him was screaming at him to get out of that place, to get outside and breathe in the cold night air. He glanced out outside and saw thousands upon thousands of tiny snowflakes falling to the earth. The night seemed peaceful, and the idea of a ride across the snowy fields of Winterbourne did sound appealing. Anything was better than sitting and allowing the traitorous ghosts of his past to haunt and provoke him as they often did at night. _

_Feeling determined, Sir Erik rose from his chair and marched out to the stables, pulling on his black winter cloak as he went. He found his horse, saddled the animal, and quietly left the grounds, his masked face tilted upward slightly to breathe in the refreshing winter air. Yes, this was a very good idea._

_Despite the snowy clouds overhead, he could still make out several stars, including the North Star, which seemed to be shimmering brightly, as if it were trying to take the place of the ancient star of Bethlehem. Erik grunted and lowered his head, his eyes darkening as he stared straight ahead. He would not say that he had lost his faith completely, he certainly believed in God's existence, he just felt that with the way things were going in his life, God had simply abandoned him. Perhaps it was some sort of heavenly justice, for all the people he had killed over the years? After all, wouldn't he be lying if he claimed that he did not seek out war? Wouldn't he be lying if he claimed that he did not take pleasure in combat? And he knew that deep within his bones that it was a lie if he claimed that he preferred being at home with his own children, than riding off somewhere to battle. Yes, the King had certainly given him many quests and orders, but he would be lying if he claimed that he, himself, had not sought them out as well._

_His brow furrowed as he remembered the look that Jacob had given him. The boy clearly needed discipline, they all did! Anne had told him about the mess they had made the other day, and she was not the only servant who complained about their behavior. His children were becoming little terrors; demons run amuck! They needed a mother, badly, but he was not ready to go through another marriage, not yet at least. _

_A strong wind whistled past his ear, warning him that a storm was coming. His horse even paused in his movements to look overhead, as if judging the sky. Yet Erik was not ready to go back yet, so he urged the horse further, pulling up the collar of his cloak as he went._

_Christmas was over for another year. Despite his best will in the world, he could not help but think about his former friend. How was Raoul spending this Christmas? Had he found happiness, despite being exile? Perhaps in some far off country, he had made his fortune, and was now living the life of a king, with a bevy of beautiful women throwing themselves at his feet, swooning over his handsome smile. Or was he also wandering, his thoughts consuming him and driving him out into the night. Did Raoul think about him? No doubt he did, after all, Erik was responsible for the reason as to why he could not return to his homeland. And on a day like Christmas, Raoul probably thought about Erik all the more…and hated him all the more, as well._

_Had he done wrong by Raoul? The man was his friend, ever since they were boys. Yet for someone who claimed to be his friend, he had abandoned him on that battlefield, all so that he could seize Elizabeth for himself._

_Elizabeth. He had no love for her, no deep feelings of passion, no desire to take her to his bed. She was striking, certainly, but he was struck dumb by her beauty, not the same way Raoul had been. So why then had he felt jealousy towards his friend? Why then had he chosen to be stubborn, and not listen to Raoul's reasoning? Was it possible that Elizabeth truly shared Raoul's feelings, that she loved him? Sleeping with someone did not necessarily mean love, she may have simply been weak minded, and easily fallen for his charms. Did Raoul truly love her, the way he had claimed? Or was it simply a matter of physical attraction, which allowed the lust in their hearts to rule their heads? _

_Yet had he not also felt such a passionate reaction upon first meeting Beatrice? Had not her beauty taken him by surprise, leaving him awestruck, making him believe that he was in love? Perhaps Elizabeth was no different than Beatrice, using her graceful charm, pretty smile, and obedient nature as a way to lure men to her, so she could get whatever it was that she wanted? After all, Erik had not had the chance to confront her upon returning home; when he had reached the Continey's, she was already gone…and as far as he was aware, she had not returned since._

_The Continey's. He wondered how they had spent their Christmas, their first Christmas, without the money or the servants to prepare for them an elaborate holiday feast, without the funds to purchase one another extravagant gifts…and without the presence of their daughter. Because he could not unleash his rage upon Elizabeth, he unleashed it upon her parents, having their land, their wealth, their titles, everything…it was all seized, leaving them with an old manor that would no doubt begin deteriorating within a few years time. He kept telling himself that Thomas and Giselle Continey were greedy, power-hungry villains, who claimed to have a sweet, obedient daughter, when in truth they had not taught her well enough the value of loyalty, and had only thrust her upon him because of his connections to the King. _

_Yet, there was a voice within his soul that questioned his actions, asking himself, had he been too harsh upon them? After all…because of his anger, because of his rage, their daughter was missing, perhaps to never return again, not that they would tell him if she did. As far as they were concerned, Elizabeth was dead…and he had killed her._

_The wind was growing worse and worse, blowing the snow about him, making it more and more difficult to see. His horse gave a sound of protest, and Erik knew that the animal was right; it was time to journey back._

_But a sound caught his ears as he turned the horse around…_

_A wail._

_A high-pitched wail…followed by another; the sound almost similar to the first. _

_It was not the wind. It was coming from the east, near a tiny grove of trees. The wailing grew louder, and he swore he heard what sounded like…crying? A woman crying? Erik urged his horse towards the trees, his heels digging into the animal's flanks when it protested. Was someone else outside on this bitter cold night? _

"_Who goes there!?" Erik barked, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but remaining steady and calm. "Answer me! Who are you!?"_

_The crying, which had become clearer, began to subside…yet the wails continued screaming. What on earth was that sound? Then, he heard the faint sound of coughing, followed by the ragged sound of breathing. Without a second thought, Sir Erik dismounted from his steed and approached the noise, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword, but his eyes peering through the snow and shadows, trying to make out a dark figure, lying on the ground near a snow covered tree. _

"_Who is it? Who are you?" he asked again, his voice still dark and commanding, but his tone less menacing._

_The coughing filled his ears once more, and he squinted his eyes, until he was but a few feet away from the trembling figure, who was clutching two, shivering objects. Then, oh so briefly, the moon burst through the clouds overhead, casting the briefest glow upon the grove, allowing him to see the face of the coughing figure for but a second._

_And Erik was stunned. "Elizabeth!?"_

_The girl, for she was barely seventeen, looked up at him and coughed some more, her hands holding fast to the two bundles, which she preciously held against her breast. Her breathing was ragged, and he could tell by the way the moon had illuminated her face, that she had been crying. He could also tell that if she had had the strength…she would have backed away from him._

"_Elizabeth?" he murmured, before kneeling down on the snow beside her, his eyes still wide with amazement and shock at seeing her there._

"_Erik…" she coughed, clutching her bundles even more. "P-p-p-please…p-please d-don't…p-please don't h-h-hurt m-me…"_

_She was shivering violently, making it near impossible to understand her words. But Erik felt guilt stab at his heart after deciphering what she had said, and he immediately removed his cloak to place over her. "I'm not going to hurt you," he vowed. "Can you walk? Can you stand?"_

_Elizabeth shook her head, and it was then that Erik noticed, looking down her body…that she wore no shoes! _

_Her feet were bare, purple and swollen and blistered from frostbite. No doubt she had no sensation in them at all, and no doubt they were of no use to her. Without another word, he bent over her and easily picked up her small frame, swallowing his shock at how frail and thin she felt. Elizabeth let out a moan of painful protest as she felt her body being lifted off the snowy ground, and then the wailing sounds which he had heard earlier returned with full force…and were coming from the two tiny bundles that she carried._

_Erik stared at the bundles, his eyes wide, his face pale._

_Children._

_In her arms, she clutched two tiny babies, each trembling from the cold, each screaming, each crying, and each with Elizabeth's emerald eyes._

_Children; her children._

_Raoul's children…_

"_Y-y-yes…" she moaned, confirming his suspicions._

_Erik's jaw tightened, and without another word, immediately took her over to his horse and placed her upon the saddle. He then quickly mounted the beast and held her against his chest, as he urged the animal back to the castle at a quick pace._

_But it was difficult; the snow was thick in some areas, and causing the horse to take slower steps._

"_Erik…"_

"_Hush, don't try to talk," he whispered, his eyes falling once more to the two babies in her arms, their cries only growing worse._

"_Erik…p-p-p-promise me…"_

"_Elizabeth, save your strength—"_

"_Promise me!" she gasped, before a long coughing fit wracked her body, causing her to shake violently against him. "P-p-promise me…y-y-you w-w-will take c-c-care of my c-c-children…"_

_Erik swore under his breath. Damn the snow! And why was she saying such things to him!?_

"_Erik…"_

"_There is no need to make such a request," he growled, his frustrations mounting with every slow step his horse was making. "Before you know it you'll be in front of a fire, wrapped in warm blankets, and being fed hot porridge—"_

"_N-n-no…" she coughed, shaking her head sadly. "Erik…p-please…I…I know…I know y-you a-a-a-are a g-good f-father…y-you t-took in Charles…e-even though y-you a-aren't c-c-certain that he is y-your son…"_

_How did she know about that? No doubt Raoul had said something to her, since Raoul was one of the few people present when Charles had been brought to his doorstep all those years ago. _

_Where the hell was Raoul in all of this!?_

"_H-h-he d-d-doesn't know…" she coughed, reading his thoughts. "I…I…I h-h-have not…I have n-not seen him…s-s-since that day…"_

_Erik's teeth clenched at her words, but he said nothing. The fools, they had not thought about the consequences of their actions! But then…wasn't it hypocritical of him to make such a judgment, when he, himself, was guilty for getting another woman pregnant with Charles?_

"_Erik…" she moaned. "Y-you…you need to know…"_

_Did he? He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had say. He just wanted to get both her and those wailing banshees that she held in her arms, inside and before a fire!_

"_I…I…I b-b-betrayed you…b-b-before…"_

_His brow creased at her words and looked down at her with confusion. Betrayed him? What on earth was she talking about?_

"_W-w-with Raoul…" she rasped. "He…he and I…w-we laid t-t-together…on…on my wedding night…"_

_Erik groaned and closed his eyes. Was he angry at this revelation? Jealous? She had just married him and then went behind his back, along with his supposed friend, and gave her body to a man who was not her husband! _

_But as he had revealed to himself before, he held nothing for her in his heart, and had no wish, despite her beauty, of sampling her body, himself. So the two of them had already started the affair, even before she believed him to be dead._

"_God h-h-has r-rightly judged me…" she sorrowfully moaned. "I h-have sinned…and c-c-caused s-shame upon my f-family…and I w-will die…a-alone; n-never to be r-reunited with t-the man I love…the f-f-father of my c-children…"_

"_You will NOT die," Erik growled through clenched teeth. He was indeed feeling anger, but it was not for this recent revelation. He should have listened to Raoul, he should have allowed the two of them to be together, he shouldn't have insisted upon the marriage, at least not with her. The King had ordered the marriage, but that was simply because Erik had requested aid in finding a bride. The King was not a harsh man, he would be understanding and forgiving once he understood Erik's cause, and while it may mean brief embarrassment for Thomas Continey, in the end he would still have his daughter, and she would have a husband who would inherit a good fortune within a few years of loyal service to the King and his army. He would no doubt resent Raoul for the embarrassment he would have felt, but that would have eventually faded, and the two of them would still be friends, and more importantly, there wouldn't have been a reason for exiling the man because Raoul would not have betrayed him!_

_Everything, all this turmoil could have been avoided if he simply had not been so stubborn! Raoul and Elizabeth were certainly guilty of giving in to their own selfish desires…but in the end, was he truly that much better than the two of them? Why had he allowed his own stubborn pride to get the better of him? _

_Pride. Indeed, that was the deadly sin that had caused all this trouble…_

"_Erik…I…I d-do n-not d-d-deserve y-your f-f-forgiveness—"_

"_Hush," he growled, perhaps with a little too darkly. "Just rest and save your strength—"_

"_It w-was a difficult birth," she trembled. "I…I l-lost so much blood…a-a-and t-t-the old woman…w-w-who helped me…offered t-t-to take my c-c-children…b-b-but I d-didn't dare t-trust her…" she coughed. "S-s-she b-beat her animals…" she explained, before looking up at him and catching his gaze. "B-b-but you, Erik…y-you are a g-g-good father…d-despite your t-temper and r-r-r-reputation…you…you l-love y-your children…a-a-a-and see to it t-t-that they are cared for…"_

_He clenched his jaw at her words. "I'm no saint, do not make me sound like one." He wasn't a good parent, either. A good parent would not abandon his children as often as he did, because he was afraid of feeling anything. _

"_Sarah…"_

_Erik's brow furrowed and he looked down at her. "What?"_

_Elizabeth moved her right arm slightly, so that he could see the child's face. "Sarah," she whispered again. Then she moved her left arm. "And Sabrina…"_

_He stared at the tiny girls, each crying and whimpering, no doubt starving and freezing, much like their mother._

"_I knew…I k-knew t-t-that I c-c-could trust you t-to c-care for my children…s-s-so as s-soon as I could c-climb out of bed…I b-began my journey…p-praying t-t-that I w-would r-reach Winterbourne, b-before I died…"_

_Erik tore his eyes away from the twins and fixed his gaze upon her, his throat tightening as he spoke. "You are NOT going to die, Elizabeth. Once we are inside—"_

"_I h-h-have been d-d-dying since t-the day they were b-born, Erik…" she whispered. "My d-d-determination t-to reach you…has b-b-been the only thing t-t-that has kept me alive…f-for this long…"_

"_Elizabeth—"_

"_Please, Erik…" she gasped, one of her hands reaching out and clutching his arm. "Please…t-t-take my c-c-children!"_

_Without warning, she thrust the two screaming girls into his arms, and Erik dropped his horse's reigns, catching the wailing infants before they fell from their mother's hands into the snow below. They were extremely tiny, and violently trembling. His heart broke at the suffering they had endured since their mother began her desperate journey. How long had they been exposed to this horrible winter weather? It was amazing that they were still alive! Their mother had sacrificed everything, even her own health and well being, just so that they could live._

_Sarah._

_Sabrina._

_They were beautiful, truly. And as he gazed at their crying faces, he could not deny the emotion that gripped his heart._

_The sound of something heavy hitting the snow caused Erik to lift his head in alarm. His eyes went wide as he realized that Elizabeth was no longer atop his horse, but on the ground below. He gathered the two girls into one of his massive arms, and pulled on the reigns of his horse, urging the beast to stop, before leaping down to where her crumpled body lay._

"_Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"_

_She was still, and her skin felt frozen to the touch._

"_ELIZABETH!"_

_Her eyes were closed, and no sound escaped her throat…_

_She was gone._

* * *

Erik awoke, not suddenly like he sometimes did when an unpleasant dream haunted him, but more because…he felt something was…different. 

He was in his chamber, and much to his surprise, it was dark outside. When had he gone to bed? He did not recall the day going so quickly…

Then, slowly, the events of the day returned, along with a somewhat pounding headache, although it was by no means as bad as it had been before.

He slowly sat up, his whole body feeling stiff, his muscles and joints aching slightly, and his head feeling somewhat dizzy. He was surprised by how much he had slept! Hopefully the poison had finished taking its course and he was on the path to recovering—

Christine!

He looked down at the place beside him…only to realize it was empty.

She had been there, she had been lying beside him, he could still feel the cool, calming touch of her fingers upon his face, but where was she now?

He quickly rose from the bed, his legs still somewhat shaky, causing him to grip the post until he found his balance. He grabbed his mask and his tunic, quickly put the two on, and then, with slow and careful steps, quietly left his chamber to seek out his wife.

He had a fairly good idea on where, exactly, to find her…

The castle was completely quiet; had he truly slept that long? Was it truly the middle of the night? He gritted his teeth as he moved, annoyed by how long it was taking him to walk and climb stairs, but eventually, he made it past the great hall, up another set of stairs, down several halls, until finally…he reached the wing of his castle that contained the bedchambers of his children.

And as he had suspected, that was where he had found her.

She was sitting in the room that belonged to his two youngest daughters, both of whom were fast asleep, their breathing steady, their small chests gently rising beneath the blankets that covered them, and their golden hair pillowed around their heads, making them look like two tiny angels. Christine sat in a nearby chair, and simply gazed upon them, her eyes never leaving their sleeping faces.

The moon glowed through the window just above his daughters' heads, offering enough light for him to see her profile. Her body looked rigid, and her face looked pale. And on her cheeks, he swore he could make out the wet trail marks of tears. He remembered telling her about Elizabeth, about how she and Sir Raoul had a brief, illicit affair…and he remembered revealing to her that yes, the twins were Elizabeth's children. He then proceeded to tell her how the girls came to be with him, how after many months of living in exile, Elizabeth returned to the region of her birth, only to seek him out with hopes that he would raise her daughters as his own. He recalled telling her how Elizabeth died, on a cold winter night, in a snow bank, just a few yards away from the castle. And while the words had not been spoken, he knew that Christine now knew that Raoul was responsible for getting Elizabeth with child.

Christine turned her head then, sensing the presence of someone else, and softly gasped as she caught the eyes of her husband, gazing back at her. Sir Erik quietly entered the room then, his own eyes being drawn to those of his sleeping daughters.

"I…I thought I had managed to slip out without waking you," she whispered as he approached.

Erik looked down at her, his intense, fierce eyes, tender. "It seems that ever since you and I have shared a bed together…it does not feel right without having you there, next to me."

Christine blushed deeply, but could not deny that she felt the same way. She had a terrible time sleeping, those days that past when he was away and she was forced to sleep in her own bed, alone. It was during that period that she realized how cold her bed felt, without him there.

"I…I just…I couldn't stop thinking about everything you had told me," she whispered, turning her eyes back to the twins. "I had to see them…"

"I understand," he softly murmured, and Christine felt a warm shiver course through her body at the feeling of his large hand, moving to wrap around her waist.

One of the girls made a noise in her sleep, before turning over and readjusting her position. Christine bit her lip, partially out of worry that perhaps she and Erik were making too much noise, and partially to bite back the tears that threatened to fall from the simple, sweet gesture. Everything Erik had told her caused her heart to both break, and swell. Erik, the fierce Black Knight, the man renowned for his skills on the battlefield…was also the most compassionate human being she had ever met. To take someone else's children, and not just anyone, but two people who had wronged you greatly…and to raise them as your own…she was in complete awe of this man!

"Come," Erik whispered, his hand gently pushing her back towards the door. "Let us walk, you and I."

Christine mutely nodded her head, and allowed Erik to lead her towards the door, and softly shut it behind them. Quietly, the two of them did walk through the castle, neither speaking, but neither feeling the need to. It was enough, to simply be with the other, to simply share silence together. Erik's hand slid away from her waist, but Christine caught it with her own, and silently entwined their fingers together. Erik said nothing, but simply squeezed her hand, and continued their walk.

Before long, they found themselves outside, standing in the castle courtyard, gazing up at the clear night sky.

"I wonder how late it is…" he murmured, breaking the silence as he counted the constellations that his father had taught him, years ago.

"I do not know," Christine murmured back, her own eyes also locking with the stars overhead. "It was dark when I awoke; I did not realize that we had been sleeping for so long."

Silence fell between them again, and Erik lifted his arm, and moved it once more around her waist, drawing her close to his side. Christine did not resist, she gladly moved into his embrace, and rested her head against his chest, her own arms moving around him, her eyes still locked with that of the night sky.

Overhead, a star fell somewhere to the earth. Christine's eyes followed it until she could no longer see where the tiny ball of light had disappeared to…however, her eyes were drawn to a lonely dark tower, a tower that she knew possessed a certain prisoner…

"He doesn't know, does he…"

Erik stiffened slightly at his wife's words. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Nay," he answered, his eyes moving to the same tower.

"That's why he said those horrible things," Christine murmured, shuddering at the memory. Her husband and Sir Raoul, fighting near the rose garden, Raoul screaming at Erik about how he had once trusted him, about how Erik had given in to his own lust and taken advantage of Elizabeth. Raoul assumed…that the twins were _Erik's!_ "He thinks you're their father?"

"I _am_ their father," Erik growled through clenched teeth. "I may not have impregnated their mother, but I _am_ their father."

Christine bit her lip and silently nodded her head in agreement. Sir Raoul could never possibly understand why anyone would care for someone else's children, and raise them as their own…but that was what Erik had done. And he was right, he was their father, and they were his children, just like the other three.

Love is deeper than blood.

"What are you going to do with him?" Christine whispered, turning her eyes from the tower to those of her husband.

A long, weary sigh escaped the Black Knight's throat. "I don't know," he answered honestly. Raoul was a wanted man; if he was captured he was to be handed over to the King's soldiers and await his official sentence from the King, himself. That sentence would be death, of course; there was no other sentence for treason. Once upon a time, Erik wanted to see Raoul suffer for his betrayal, but now, especially after confronting so many old memories, his heart was conflicted by such thoughts. Was Raoul entirely to blame for his betrayal? Could it have all been prevented?

"Perhaps…" Christine began, unsure exactly how to put her words. "Perhaps…perhaps you should speak with him?"

Erik looked down at her, his brow creased with confusion. "Speak with him? Why?"

Christine bit her lip and softly placed her palms upon his chest. "The two of you were such friends, once. I…perhaps…if you spoke with him, maybe—"

"Our friendship died long ago, Christine," Erik growled, not wanting to dwell on the subject. "It died when he left me to die on that field—nay, it died when he went behind my back and slept with Elizabeth."

"But Erik—"

"What's done is done," he grumbled, turning away from both the view of the tower, and her blue eyes. "I can't change the past, and even if I wanted to, you think he would accept the olive branch I offer? You heard what he said when we were fighting, you saw for yourself how greatly he hates me."

_Yes…and if he is the one putting on the disguise of The Jackal, I know what he is capable of._ A chill ran down her spine as she recalled the mysterious note found in the twins' bedchamber all those weeks ago. She had once told Meg that she suspected Sir Raoul to be the new Jackal, and at the time it made a great deal of sense; who else, other than an old war comrade, would know all about Sir Erik's dark history with the villain? Who else, other than a man taught by the Black Knight himself, could slip in and slip out of the castle, silently and unseen? And who else…other than someone who held a deep grudge, would attempt to threaten Sir Erik's own children? And the note was found in the twins' chamber; Raoul obviously knew that the girls were Elizabeth's daughters…but he also believed that Erik was their blood father, as well. Even with this new information, it still looked as if Sir Raoul was the most likely suspect to be The Jackal…

And yet…that suspicion that Christine once held didn't seem to be as strong as it once was. She couldn't describe it…but she had doubts, now. Who else other than Sir Raoul would want Erik to believe that the evil pirate was still alive, still terrorizing others? It sounded right…but it didn't _feel_ right, anymore…

"I have put it off for too long," Erik sighed. "I will write to the King tomorrow, and have Bernard and several of my men deliver him to the palace—"

"CHRISTINE!"

Erik and Christine whipped their heads around at the sound of the desperate cry. A man came stumbling outside into the courtyard, his face pale and covered with perspiration.

"Robert!?" Christine gasped, and immediately flew to her friend's side. He was trembling!

"Oh, oh thank God, I've been looking everywhere for you!" Robert gasped, his hands gripping Christine's small shoulders. "She's calling for you, she's screaming for you!"

His words were not only desperate, but also filled with panic. One look into his frightened brown eyes, and Christine had her answer. "The baby…" she whispered.

"Please," Robert moaned, tears streaming down his face. "Please…go…go and help her, please…"

Christine didn't waste any time, she picked up her skirts and followed Robert back inside the castle, flying down the hallways through the servant quarters, into the room where he and Meg slept. Several servant girls were crowded around the room, and Christine and Robert had to push their way through the crowd to get inside.

"ALL OF YOU! BACK TO YOUR CHAMBERS, NOW!"

Christine whipped her head around, surprised to see that her husband had followed. His loud bark sent the other servant girls flying, like a school of birds, hurrying back to the shelter of their chambers before further angering their master. Now, with a clear path to enter the room, Christine flew to Meg's bedside.

Anne was already in the room, sitting at the foot of the bed between Meg's legs. "Come now, dear, push again! That's it, push again!" Two other girls stood nearby, one holding a pile of clean rags, while the other kept removing old basins of bloody water, and bringing in new ones. Robert went to the left side of the bed, his hand finding Meg's and clutching it tightly to his heart, while his other hand brushed her hair away from her sweaty brow, before dropping a kiss upon it. "I found her, Meg my darling, I found Christine."

"Yes, I am here, Meg," Christine whispered, squeezing her friend's hand from the right side of the bed. Meg's pretty face was twisted in painful agony, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to follow Anne's instructions.

"Oh Christine…" Meg panted, painfully. "Oooohhhh, God…it hurts! It hurts!"

"You're doing wonderfully, Meg," Christine whispered, trying her best to take her friend's mind off the pain. "Soon, very soon, you are going to have a beautiful baby girl! Just like you wanted! And then you can prove Robert wrong," she joked, although it was hard to be lighthearted…especially when she noticed how bloody the sheets were.

"Christine…" Meg panted, her grip weakening slightly in her friend's hand. "I…I…I c-c-can't do this…"

Panic seized Christine at her friend's words. "Nay, nay, Meg, you can, you will! You've wanted a child for so long, both you and Robert, and you are strong Meg, you're the strongest woman I know!"

Robert looked over Meg's head at Christine and she saw the fear written across his face. He bent his head then and whispered words into his wife's ear, trying to encourage her, just as Anne was growling words of encouragement, trying to get the girl to push once more. "Come now, dear, he's almost here, I can see his head…just another push, another big push!"

Meg shook her head, her copper-blonde hair clinging to her face. She closed her eyes and groaned, her face going red with concentration, but she collapsed back on the bed, sobbing. "I can't!" she moaned. "I…I…I d-d-don't h-have the strength…"

Christine swallowed the sob that nearly rose out of her throat at the way her friend spoke. She lifted her eyes then, catching those of her husband, who silently stood in the doorway. The two of them held one another's gazes for a long moment, and without a word, Erik turned on his heel. If he had to ride all the way to Valmour, he would; he was going to bring a doctor back if necessary—

"Ah, so we meet again, I see."

Erik froze…as the sound of a familiar voice filled his ears.

He turned his head, and his eyes widened as he recognized the face of the woman who was approaching him.

"You!" he gasped, as he stared at the peasant woman he had encountered but a few days ago on the road that led north towards Winterbourne. "What…what are…?" he was so stunned at seeing her that he couldn't get his words straight.

The dark-haired woman simply smiled, before moving past him. "Is her room down this hallway?" she simply asked. Erik's mouth was hanging open in complete shock, but no answer would come out. He did not need to answer though, for another cry of pain filled the hallway and well beyond. "I believe the answer is 'yes'," the woman simply sighed, before continuing down the hall.

His senses seemed to have finally come back to him, and with several long strides, he grabbed a hold of her wrist and whirled her around to face him. "What…how…why are you here!?" he demanded.

"I told you my reasons for traveling when we last met," the woman simply replied. "Do you not recall? I was on my way north to visit my daughter and her family."

"Your daughter!?" Was she the mother of one of his servants? If so, why was she interested in finding the room where Meg was—unless…

"It's Antoinette," the woman introduced once more. "And judging by the realization in your eyes, I would say you have now learned as to why I am here…now if you will excuse me? I do believe my daughter needs me right now, perhaps more than ever before." Without another word, Antoinette turned on her heel and marched into the chamber where Meg was sobbing and Anne was barking orders.

"Another push, Meg, you're so close!" Christine urged.

"I'm…I'm t-t-trying!" Meg whimpered. "I…I d-d-don't…I d-don't have the s-strength!"

"Yes you do, my darling, and you will deliver these babies."

All heads turned to the woman who had just spoken, who was standing in the doorway, holding a satchel in her arms and gazing, admiringly, at Meg.

"M-m-m-mama?" Meg gasped, her eyes going wide.

Christine's mouth fell open, as did Robert's. What on earth was Antoinette doing there?

"All will be answered in good time," Antoinette murmured, noticing all the questions in everyone's eyes. "Right now, we have more important things to deal with…if I may?" she asked, smiling down at Anne. Anne didn't argue, she immediately moved out of the way, allowing Antoinette to take a seat at the foot of the bed and examine her daughter. She frowned as she took in the sight of all the blood that pooled the sheets just below her hips. "Robert, help me lift Meg's hips…and Christine, kindly pull those soiled sheets out from under her."

Christine nodded her head, and despite Meg's painful protests, Robert did as his mother-in-law instructed, and Christine quickly tugged the sheets away. Nausea boiled up inside her…as she got a good look at the blood that covered the sheets she now held…

"Give those to me, dear," Anne murmured, taking the soiled sheets out of Christine's trembling hands. Christine was grateful for Anne's kindness…but she still felt nauseated, and light-headed. Back when Antoinette was still working at the de Coleville's castle, she had assisted the woman a few times with helping young mothers give birth, however Christine's stomach had never truly been that strong when it came to the sight of blood. Meg was more helpful than she was in those situations, but now it was her friend who was giving birth, and her friend needed her. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the will to fight the nausea.

A strong arm moved around her to steady her. Christine looked up and a grateful smile spread across her lips, as her eyes met those of her husband's.

"Christine?" The brunette turned her attentions back to Antoinette, who was holding several vials. "Make a tea…and put these in it."

Anne frowned as she watched the new woman give Christine the vials. "I can do that—"

"Nay," Antoinette interrupted. "Let Christine; she knows what to do, she's helped me before."

Christine silently nodded her head, although she was reluctant to leave Meg's side. Yet her friend needed her help more than her presence, and so without another word, she took the vials of seeds and spices that Antoinette held out for her, glanced up at her husband, and then hurried out of the room, heading directly to the kitchens.

Erik followed close behind.

"You know her!?"

Christine looked over her shoulder, although within a few strides, her husband was right beside her. "She is Meg's mother; she worked as a cook in Baron de Coleville's home, before he began releasing some of us to pay for his debts," she spat, bitterly. "She looked after me when I arrived, and became a second mother to me, in a sense," she whispered.

Erik was stunned. He had made the connection that Antoinette had been the midwife that helped bring Christine into the world, and who could not have been reached in time to help save Christine's mother or her baby brother…but he had no idea that the two of them had EVER met again! He had thought that meeting alongside the road was a simple coincidence! Yet now…now Antoinette was there…and now, he had learned that she knew Christine, not just as a child at birth, but…for many years, as a child that she helped raise while in the de Coleville home! Good God, did that mean…no, there was no way she could have possibly have known who he was, when they met! How could she? Christine said so herself, that Antoinette had long been gone from Pierre de Coleville's home before he came to claim her as his wife. Yet Meg could have told her, if she truly was Meg's mother! But…still…it…it could all be explained as a simple coincidence…couldn't it?

Erik hadn't even realized they had arrived in the kitchens. Christine was already hard at work, making whatever potion Antoinette had sent her to make. As he watched his wife work diligently, he felt his heart swell. He could not imagine his life without her by his side, he could not imagine any life without her. He had gone to that castle to fetch himself a bride, a woman to be the mother of his children. After he took in Elizabeth's children, he knew that it was important to find a mother for them, but he was bombarded with summons after summons by the King; the country was at war, and Erik did not have the opportunity to find himself another bride, although he was quite reluctant to do so. Three years past, until peace returned to the land once more and he finally mustered up the courage to seek out another woman to be the mother his children so desperately needed. Within a fortnight of writing to the King, he received a letter, telling him how Pierre de Coleville was desperate to find a husband for his only daughter, Carlotta. She was young, but Erik did not care, he was desperate to find someone for his children. So he rode south, prepared to marry Carlotta de Coleville and return to Winterbourne, leaving her to manage his children, thus leaving him in peace.

But instead, he found Christine. And upon that first meeting, something about her drew him to her. It was obvious that she was not Carlotta; she didn't match any of the descriptions that Pierre had written about, plus she looked awkward in that sweeping dress, and she was on her hands and knees in the dirt, something a noblewoman would never do. Was it the deceit of the situation that drew him to her? Was he curious to learn why she was deceiving him? Or had he fallen in love with her then? He wanted to marry her that very night, he kissed her when they were in that inn, and she constantly filled his thoughts, both on the journey to Winterbourne and long after they had arrived. And try as he might…he could not deny the passion she stirred in him, or the love that was growing with every passing day.

He had shown her his face…and she did not run away or scream. He had told her about his past…and she did not judge him as a villain. He had pushed her away and lied to her…and still, she came to him with her heart, and her arms, wide open to him. He had told her that he loved her…but did she really know how deeply he loved her? Did she?

"Hurry," Christine whispered, after pouring the mysterious herbal potion into a goblet. She quickly, and carefully, ran down the hall, back to Meg's chamber, with him close behind. She entered the room and gasped, her eyes wide…as she saw Robert standing near Meg, crying…and smiling, as he held a small child in his arms.

"It's a girl, Christine…" he gasped between happy sobs. "Just like Meg had predicted…"

"Oh…oh Robert! Congratulations! Oh, Meg!" she grinned down at her friend, but frowned…when she noticed Meg's face, still contorted in pain. What was wrong? The baby had been born!

"Ah!" Antoinette smiled and took the goblet out of Christine's hands. "Thank you, my dear. Now Meg," Antoinette held the goblet up towards her daughter. "Drink this…it will help, my sweet."

Anne eyed the goblet suspiciously. "What's in that?"

"Some roots and herbs and flower seeds," Antoinette simply answered. "It helps with the pain, as well as give her some strength, which she needs, as this little fellow is being stubborn."

Christine's eyes went wide at Antoinette's words. "You mean…there's another?"

"Aye," Antoinette simply said. "And mark my words, it will be a boy. Now drink this, my dear, you need your strength, and it will help," she cooed, leaning over her daughter and pressing the goblet to Meg's lips.

Meg moaned with pain, but opened her mouth and sipped the goblet, coughing now and then from the hot liquid. "Good girl," Antoinette whispered. "I know it doesn't taste good, but drink every last drop…that's my girl," she smiled.

Christine held her breath and gripped Meg's hand, as Antoinette instructed her daughter to push once more. Meg moaned and turned her head to Christine, but her friend gave her a strong, encouraging smile, and with a deep breath, Meg closed her eyes and groaned as she pushed with all her might.

"Again, Meg, again! Keep pushing! His head is coming! Yes, I see his head!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" Meg screamed, squeezing both Robert's and Christine's hand as she pushed again and again, just as her mother ordered, the sweat and tears dripping down her face. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Meg collapsed back against her pillows, crying and laughing as her ears were filled with another wonderful wail, this time from her son, whom her mother held, wiping him clean. "A boy, my dear, and a strong one from the looks of things," Antoinette grinned, before gently placing the child in his mother's arms.

Both Robert and Meg were crying and clinging to one another, as their eyes moved back and forth from the two wailing children that they each held. "They're beautiful…" Robert whispered, gazing at the faces of his son and daughter. "Just like you, my love…just like you."

Meg smiled through her tears and cuddled the two children to her bosom. "A boy and a girl; we were both right, it seems," she murmured, before turning her face up to her husband. Robert laughed, before lowering his head and planting a soft, sweet kiss, against Meg's tender lips.

Anne wiped her own eyes and smiled at Antoinette. "Thank you, thank you so much for your help."

Antoinette simply bowed her head, before once more gazing upon her grandchildren with a tender smile.

Christine was also wiping her eyes, and she turned to the doorway, smiling as she saw the dark figure of her husband, although he kept his masked face in the shadows. She quietly rose to her feet and approached him…and gasped, as she saw tears swimming in his eyes. It was not the first time Sir Erik had cried in front of her…but Christine was still not used to seeing this emotion in the Black Knight.

No words were spoken; Christine simply wrapped her arms around her husband and laid her head against his chest. Erik's own arms tightened around her, and pulled her in even closer, his lips falling and softly kissing her hair, his heart feeling as if it might burst.

"Let us give the new family some time to rest," Antoinette murmured, smiling at all the others in the room.

Meg looked up at her mother, her eyes widening at the woman's words. "But Mama, you have only just arrived, you can't leave—"

"I'm not going to leave, my child, at least…" she turned and gazed at the Black Knight. "At least, if his lordship does not mind?"

Erik shook his head. "You are welcome here," he murmured, not truly trusting his voice to say much more than that.

Antoinette smiled and bowed her head once more. "Come, then. I think we could all use some rest."

"Aye, and perhaps a spot of mead, if ye ask me," Anne grinned.

Antoinette, Anne, and the two servant girls who had stayed to help, each left the room, moving past Christine and Sir Erik as they went. It was Erik who reached for the doorknob, and who whispered "congratulations" to the new family, before softly shutting the door.

Christine smiled up at him and stood on the tips of her toes, before brushing her lips against his in a sweet, loving kiss. Erik's arms moved around her body, pulling her in even closer, kissing her back deeply, tenderly, but reverently. "Come," she whispered against his lips. "Let us go and be with our children."

"Our children," Erik whispered. Indeed, Jacob, Helena, Charles, and the twins were _their_ children. And while he did not say the words, as he gazed down at his wife's beautiful face, he felt a strong desire to have more children…with her.

* * *

A dark figure gazed down at Jacob's sleeping face, as if admiring the boy. The figure did not even bother to glance at Charles, it simply continued to stare at Jacob.

The figure had already been in to see the girls, and had stood over Helena's bed for a long time, watching the way the stars and the moon shown into the room, illuminating the girl's fiery hair. The temptation to stroke that hair, to tangle one's fingers in that hair became too great, and the figure quickly left the room, silently entering the one that belonged to the boy's.

A hand emerged from the figure's cloak…and hovered for a long while over Jacob's head, as if daring themselves to touch the boy.

But the sudden sound of footsteps jerked the figure from its trance, and caused the cloaked person to immediately rush to the windows and climb out of the room…just before Sir Erik and his wife opened the chamber doors.


	40. Illuminating Gifts

**Summary: **Much is going on at Winterbourne; mysterious wagons carrying familiar treasures, eerie conversations being held with prisoners, blood-chilling prophecies and predictions, not to mention the revelation of a long lost gift. All leading up to an explosive climax...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Illuminating_** **_Gifts_**

Sarah and Sabrina frowned as they gazed down at the sleeping babies. Sabrina lifted her eyes to Christine and asked, in a rather perplexed voice, "they're twins?"

Christine grinned and nodded her head. "That's right, just like you and your sister."

Sarah looked up at her mother, a confused expression written across her little face. "But they don't even look alike!"

Meg, who was holding the babies for the girls to see, couldn't help but softly laugh. "Well, they may not look exactly the same, like the two of you, but they were born at the same time…just like the two of you were."

Christine smiled at her friend, although deep in her heart she couldn't help but recall the sad tale of how Elizabeth sacrificed everything, just so her babies could be born, and live a better life with Sir Erik.

Christine turned her head and smiled over her shoulder at the other children who were huddled in the room, each looking at the newborn twins with wonder. Christine's heart soared as she gazed at the young faces before her. It was amazing how so many weeks ago, she had arrived at Winterbourne and was declared the enemy by the very same children who she dearly loved with all her heart. Then, they hated her, they despised her, they relished in playing horrible tricks upon her and the other servants, yet now? Now, it would be awfully hard for a stranger to believe that these very children who stood so loyally by her side, who called her "Mother"…were once upon time hellish little demons. A contented sigh escaped Christine's throat; a year ago she had never imagined herself to be anything more than Carlotta's slave. She certainly never imagined herself becoming a wife, mother, and mistress of a great estate like Winterbourne. Yet here she was…Lady Christine von Desslar, and here was her family, whom she loved dearly.

Perhaps that was the most amazing thing of all? She had found love, she had found a home to call her own. Indeed, God had truly blessed her.

"Have you named them yet?" Sarah asked, looking up from the sleeping twins into Meg's kind eyes.

Meg smiled and gazed down at her children. "Well…we, Robert and I, have decided the give the boy my father's name…Gaston," Meg explained. "And the girl…" she lifted her eyes to Christine's face and smiled. "I would very much like to name her Christine."

Christine's face paled at Meg's announcement, before burning bright red. Charles glanced back and forth between the two women, before finally asking his question. "You mean you want to name her after our mother?"

Meg smiled at the raven-haired boy and nodded her head. "Aye, if your mother does not mind, of course."

Christine's face was a deep shade of scarlet. "Oh Meg, I…" she bit her lip, feeling somewhat embarrassed and unworthy of the beautiful honor Meg was giving her. She was also extremely moved. "Surely there are…more beautiful names to give your daughter…"

"Forgive me, Mother, but you're wrong."

Christine turned her head, surprised to hear Jacob's voice ring out throughout the room…and surprised to hear those words come from him! She and Jacob had long established a peaceful truce between the two of them, and she loved the boy dearly, yet she always felt a slight distance from him that she did not feel with the others. She believed this was because he was the oldest, and wanted to prove himself to be a man, and that perhaps, he still had memories of his own mother. Yet to hear him defend her name, to herself…Christine was absolutely speechless.

Meg grinned. "I have to agree with my young master, and the future lord of Winterbourne," Meg murmured, before placing a kiss atop each child's head.

Jacob looked deeply into Christine's eyes, his own golden gaze holding hers, much in the same way his father held her gaze, and Christine watched in wonder…as a handsome, kind, and loving smile broke across his strong features.

The smile spoke volumes where words couldn't even begin to describe. "Very well," Christine whispered, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

"Mama? Are you alright?" Charles asked, noticing Christine's tear-filled eyes.

Christine quickly turned her head and wiped her eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, thank you Charles," she whispered, smiling at the younger boy, before placing her hands on Sarah and Sabrina's shoulders. "But I think it best that we give Meg and her children some time to rest."

The twins groaned, as did Helena, because she really wanted to hold one of the babies, but they all dutifully left the room, leaving the young mother and her two young children in peace.

They were all feeling rather tired; Erik and Christine had awoken them when it was still dark outside. In truth, Jacob awoke, feeling as if someone were watching him, but when he looked up, he saw his father and new mother entering his bedchamber. He at first thought something was wrong, but one look into his father's eyes, and Jacob was stunned to see the loving tears that shimmered in the Black Knight's golden depths. Christine moved to hug him, and he returned the hug, although he was confused as to why they were there in the first place, and what was going on. Charles soon woke up, and Christine also embraced him. Helena and the twins heard the noise coming from the boys' room, and tiredly entered, wondering what was going on. Christine embraced each and every one of them, and told them how her dear friend, Meg, had given birth to a boy and a girl.

Upon learning that Meg had twins, the younger siblings wanted to see the babies right away, but Erik scooped up his younger daughters, and held them close to his heart, whispering in their ear that they would see the children after the sun rose and after Meg had the opportunity to rest. Helena and Charles quickly embraced their father, and Erik sat at the foot of Jacob's bed, placing his hand on the oldest boy's shoulders and squeezing it affectionately, a silent acknowledgment passing through them both.

Both Jacob and Erik had embraced in the past, but it was still somewhat awkward, mainly because Erik was trying to treat Jacob like a man, as he knew the young boy wanted to be seen. And Jacob was trying to do everything in his power to make sure his father could see him in that light. Yet when they looked into each other's matching sets of golden eyes, there was no denying the love and respect that either one of them felt for the other.

Within an hour, the sun began to rise. Helena snuggled next to Christine's side, while Sabrina crawled onto her lap. The children begged that Christine sing one of her stories to them, and Christine happily complied, singing several stories, some about knights going on grand quests, some about fairies casting mystical spells to save princesses, and then, Charles begged Christine to sing the one about the maiden and the ghost, much to everyone's surprise, as Charles was normally the most adamant against anything romantic. But Christine happily complied and sang her song, while Erik gazed at her with distant eyes…as if something were on his mind…

The family went downstairs for breakfast, which Anne and a new woman the children had never seen before, served to them while humming happy tunes. Christine introduced the new women to the children, saying that she was in fact, Meg's mother, and had helped with delivering Meg's children. Antoinette smiled at the family, giving Christine a special, tender smile, as she caressed the young woman's cheek. "I'm very happy for you, my dear," she whispered in Christine's ear. It had been Antoinette's wish to see the girl who she had always viewed as a second daughter, to be married and living happily. As she gazed at all the beaming faces around the dining table, Antoinette knew that Christine had indeed found the happy ending to her long, tragic tale.

The children raced through their breakfast, eager to see the newborn babies. As soon as they were finished, they tugged on their parents' hands, but much to everyone's surprise…Sir Erik told the children to go with Christine, that he needed to take care of something first, but he would join them later.

Christine gazed at her husband with curious eyes, wondering what he talking about. Her eyes briefly caught his, and before he looked away, she saw sadness and frustration deep within their depths.

Sir Raoul.

Erik had mentioned to her last night how it was time he dealt with Sir Raoul, once and for all. The handsome knight would be taken to the King, and sentenced to whatever fate lay ahead of him. Christine could not help but feel saddened by this turn of events; after everything she had learned about Sir Erik's past, especially how he and Sir Raoul had been such good friends, it broke her heart that nothing could be done to mend that once, strong friendship.

So with a silent nod of her head, Christine gathered the children and guided them to the servants' quarters where they could greet Meg and the newborns. They couldn't stay for very long, after all, Meg still needed her rest, but the tiny babies fascinated the children, especially the younger ones. After Christine had shut the door to Meg's room, Helena took her hand and looked up at her and asked innocently, "Mama, are you going to have a baby?"

Christine's face went pale at the little girl's words, and then immediately darkened to a deep crimson. "W-w-what?"

The child simply looked up at her, as if the question she had asked were the most natural thing to ask. "Are you and Papa going to have a baby like Meg and Robert?"

Christine was at a complete loss of words. "I…I…um…w-well, that is…" she couldn't speak! And she couldn't believe that until Helena had brought it up…that she hadn't thought about it! Children, more children, children birthed from _her!_ She was absolutely amazed that the thought had never crossed her mind! She looked at each one of the children around her; she loved them all and accepted them all as her own, but the thought of having a tiny baby, of giving birth to a son or daughter created between her and Sir Erik…it was both wonderful and frightening! She had become a mother so quickly for the others, but was she ready to have a baby of her own? Would she be a good mother to a tiny infant? Oh Lord, what if she were already with child!? The last few nights, she and Sir Erik had spent a great deal of…time…together; it was possible. She would not know for certain until the end of the week…

"I hope it's a boy," Charles muttered. "We have too many girls as it is—ouch!" he pouted when Helena pinched him.

Christine was about to reprimand the two, but was distracted by Ophelia's warm greeting. "Ah! Good morning to you all!" Ophelia smiled, giving a curtsy to Christine and the children. Beside Ophelia were her and Bernard's two sons, Karl and Luc, who also bowed in greeting their mistress and her children. Christine curtsied back, and the other children followed suit, although Helena was turning a bright shade of red as he caught Karl looking at her and smiling. She turned even redder when she heard Jacob chuckling behind her.

"We are on our way to greet the newest additions to Winterbourne, and wish the happy couple congratulations," Ophelia explained with a sweet smile. She then looked directly into Christine's eyes, her own filled with wonder. "I understand that you were present at the birth? Someone told me that a mysterious woman arrived to help, and that she is still here at the castle?"

"That 'mysterious woman' is in fact, Meg's mother, Antoinette," Christine explained. "And if not for her and the help she provided…" Christine shuddered to think about the sad possibility that had Antoinette not arrived to help, instead of a celebration, they would all be preparing for a burial.

Ophelia nodded her head. "Well I am grateful for her arrival as well," she smiled. "I must say, Winterbourne has become extremely exciting within the last few days, although I believe we could all live without some of that excitement," she murmured for Christine's ears only.

Christine nodded her head, knowing that Ophelia was referring to Carlotta's vicious scheme. "Has…has anyone learned anything…?" Christine tentatively asked.

"Nay, I'm afraid not," Ophelia sighed. "Bernard was up extremely late last night, leading a group of men all around the castle and the grounds, and even down by the beach, searching for whatever they could find…but sadly, they found nothing."

"I was with them, Mother," Jacob announced, squaring his shoulders and looking rather pleased with himself.

Christine was surprised by the boy's announcement. She had spent the day with Erik, doing all that she could to soothe his headache and help him rest. After he had finished telling her all about Sir Raoul's betrayal, and Elizabeth's final days, the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms, utterly exhausted by everything that had taken place and everything that had been shared. She had practically forgotten about the search to find Carlotta.

"Yes, Bernard said that Jacob was a great help," Ophelia smiled. "He will make a wonderful knight someday, just like his father."

"Indeed, he will," Christine whispered, also smiling at Jacob, however she found herself lost in thought. Carlotta was manipulative, conniving, and most definitely a schemer…but she did not possess enough thought in her brain to come up with a "war strategy". When Carlotta plotted a scheme, she never thought it fully through; a prime example was her scheme to have Christine pretend to be her when Sir Erik arrived. As she had been then, Carlotta was always confident in her schemes, believing that they would succeed simply because they made sense in her mind. Carlotta never, not once, came up with a contingency plan, should her scheme fail. Luckily for her, when Carlotta's plan failed to have Sir Erik leave the de Coleville's without a bride, she benefited.

It was obvious that the whole point of Carlotta's most recent scheme was to have Christine walk in just when she and Sir Erik were making love. Carlotta assumed that upon finding Sir Erik with another woman, Christine would run away in tears, and the marriage would somehow be annulled, and Sir Erik would take Carlotta for his bride and she would win by gaining his fortune.

Carlotta clearly did not think this through. Her plan would only succeed if Sir Erik truly _desired_ her; obviously she was thinking more with her vanity than with her head. No, the thing that troubled Christine, the thing that did not strike her as something Carlotta would do, let alone think of…was an escape plan. Carlotta simply did not think that far ahead! And yet…she knew about the secret passage, and she had somehow managed to escape the castle without anyone discovering her! Which could only mean one thing…

She was not alone in her scheme.

And that realization, made Christine's blood run cold.

"Mama, did you see all the things that Papa's men brought back?"

Christine was shaken by Helena's question, and looked at her daughter with confused eyes. "What?"

"Sir Erik's men," Ophelia explained. "They returned just after..." she paused, trying to pick her words carefully. "Well, they arrived while you and Sir Erik were in the castle, and they had several large wagons filled to the brim with all sorts of items!"

Christine's brow furrowed at Ophelia's words. "Items? Whatever for? Why—"

"Remember when Papa left nearly a week ago, Mama?" Helena interrupted. She was eager to show her mother the very wagons Ophelia had described. "His men finally came back yesterday, from the south."

Ophelia nodded her head to the redheaded girl, before turning her eyes upon Christine. "Did Sir Erik reveal to you where he had gone? I still haven't learned from Bernard—Christine?" Ophelia's smile disappeared into a look of concern when she noticed how pale Christine's face had become. "Christine, are you alright?"

"Mother?" Jacob asked, his own golden eyes filling with concern. "Mother, what is the matter?"

Christine swallowed the surprised lump in her throat and put on a smile, although her imagination was running wild. Sir Erik had ridden south…but why? What was in the south…other than…

Pierre de Coleville.

"Children," Christine murmured. "I would very much like to see these wagons, if you please…"

Helena grinned and grabbed a hold of her mother's hand, practically dragging Christine behind her as she ran out into the courtyard, the others following closely behind, even Ophelia and her boys. Helena led the way, through the courtyard, around the stables, and past the barn…until she finally came to the spot where the wagons had been taken, and upon arriving, Christine gasped…and stood frozen, while Sir Erik's men and several servants were going about the task of unloading the many items that had been brought back.

"Lord in heaven…" Christine whispered in absolute shock, as she recognized the Baron's paintings and furniture, Lady Maria's jewels, and Carlotta's endless supply of colorful gowns.

Erik had gone to see the de Coleville's!? Why hadn't he said anything to her!? Of course, yesterday he had been poisoned…and the day before that they had been…otherwise occupied. Plus, she had been so enraptured by learning about her husband's past that she had not even thought to ask him, let alone learn from him, where he had been. And now Christine found herself wondering…why? Why did he go to Pierre de Coleville? And why had he brought back all these things?

"What have ye got there?" Anne's voice filled Christine's ears, and she saw the old woman standing near one of the wagons, directing various people on where to place certain items.

"Some tapestries, from the looks of things," a servant muttered, showing Anne the rolled fabrics he held in his arms.

"Tapestries…" Christine whispered, before racing over to Anne's side, leaving Ophelia and the children standing there, looking puzzled at her strange behavior.

"Wait!" Christine cried, rushing towards the servant who held the tapestries. "Let me see those, please."

The servant was surprised by his mistress' desperate tone. Anne was also surprised, but barked an order to the servant to let Christine look at the tapestries he held. Christine immediately began going through the fabric pictures, looking desperately for the one her father had given her just before he died, the tapestry that Pierre had taken from her upon learning what it was, and hanging it in his own great hall and declaring it as his own.

But it was not there.

"Are there more?" Christine asked, trying very hard to stay calm, when all she wanted to do was dive into one of the wagons and search everywhere for it.

"More?" Anne asked, looking confused. "Ye mean, more tapestries?"

"Yes!" Christine practically shrieked, cursing herself for her tone, and taking several deep, calming breaths. "There must be more tapestries than these, I know that the de Coleville's had many—"

"These are all the tapestries that we have, my dear," Anne sighed, looking upon her mistress with worry and pity.

Christine was stunned by Anne's words. "No…no, that cannot be, I _know_ there are more tapestries than these, I worked in that castle since I was a child! I know there are more, there must be more—"

"There aren't, child," Anne whispered. "I'm sorry, but what I said is true; these are all the tapestries that came in the wagons, there are no others."

Christine felt as if someone had slapped her, hard, across the face. _They sold it_, she realized. _They sold the tapestry my father gave to me, the only thing I ever had from them…it's gone._ Tears began to pool within her eyes, and Christine bit her lip, trying very hard to control the sobs that were welling up within her throat. _I should have told Sir Erik about it after we had been married, he asked me to bring whatever I could carry, whatever was mine that I cared about, but I was coward, I didn't even think about it, I didn't even think I would ever see it again, and yet now…when the possibility of having it once more has arisen…I…I…I feel as if my parents have died, twice!_

"Mama?"

Christine looked down at Helena and noticed how the twins were also standing by her side, each tugging on her hand, each looking up at her with sadness and worry.

"Mama, why are you sad?" Helena asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Look at all the treasures Papa's men have brought back!" she tried to smile, but it was difficult. "I thought you would be happy…"

Christine quickly wiped her eyes and bent down until she was at eye level with the girl. "Oh Helena, I…I am happy, I have the most beautiful children in the world," she smiled, even though there were still traces of tears in her eyes. "These items are very fine, but…_you_ are my true treasure, _all_ of you," she murmured, smiling at each and every one of them. "No tapestry could ever measure up to the treasure that is my family."

The children smiled and hugged Christine tightly, all of them, even Jacob, and Christine hugged each one of them to her.

_Be happy_, she told herself. _It is all right to feel sad over the tapestry because you miss your parents, but do not allow that to rule you. So long as I have love to share…and the love of my family…my parents will live on, not in the fabric of a tapestry, but in the hearts and smiles of my children._

* * *

Erik stared down at the blank piece of parchment before him. He had already told Bernard to gather several men and make themselves ready for a journey to the King's palace; they would soon be delivering Winterbourne's tower prisoner for the monarch's justice. All Erik had to do was write a letter to the King, explaining the situation… 

And yet, it was proving to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

A gentle tapping on his chamber door awoke Erik from his troubled trance, and he muttered a gruff, "enter", his eyes never truly leaving the blank piece of parchment.

"I beg your pardon, my lord, I do not mean to disturb you…?"

Erik glanced up at the voice, surprised to see Antoinette, the mysterious woman he had met only a few nights ago, standing there before him. She was the last person he expected to see behind his door.

"Nay, 'tis all right," Erik grumbled, slumping his large figure into a nearby chair. "I trust your daughter is recovering well?"

Antoinette smiled and nodded her head. "Aye, she is a strong girl, despite her small size. And her babies are also strong; they will all recover just fine." She smiled and fixed her eyes upon the blank piece of paper before the Black Knight. She then turned her gaze to Sir Erik, before looking down at the floor. "I suppose you were wondering why I hadn't told you, the night we met, that I was traveling to Winterbourne?"

Erik's eyes narrowed slightly. "I won't deny that that thought, along with several others, have crossed my mind, yes, especially since you claimed to know who I was at the time."

Antoinette only nodded. "I did know who you were, as I said, how many knights of the realm wear masks? But the reason I didn't mention my destination, specifically, or that I didn't mention that my daughter was one of your servants, or that I knew Christine—"

"So you admit," Erik interrupted, rising from his chair, his golden eyes fixed with her dark ones. "That the girl to whom you were telling me about, the girl that you last helped deliver before you were sent away from Sebastian de Coleville's home, was in fact…my wife?"

Antoinette only lifted her chin, her eyes never leaving his. "I knew you would figure it all out, my lord."

Sir Erik snorted. "You failed to mention that you also knew her for many years in Pierre de Coleville's home," he grumbled. Erik was getting frustrated. Not only was he trying to bring himself to write a letter that would condemn an old friend of his, but he was dealing with a woman who brought a great deal of unease to him; Erik didn't believe in witchcraft or magic or seeing into the future…yet there was something about the tall, dark woman that certainly seemed…supernatural.

"That night, the night you and I shared a meal in that field, you encouraged me to ride back to Winterbourne at great speed—"

"Yes, I remember the night well, my lord," Antoinette murmured with a smile. "While I did encourage you to travel back with great haste to your wife and children, I did not tell you anything that you did not already feel, yourself." Her dark eyes challenged him, but Erik dared not to. She truly was a worthy adversary, this strange woman. "And…based on everything that I saw last night…" Antoinette murmured, an affectionate smile spreading across her rigid features. "I can tell that you did just what you wanted to do…but had been too afraid to do, am I wrong?"

Erik felt his face flush slightly at the meaning of her words, and quickly found himself looking away. "Nay, you are not wrong," he answered, his voice soft, but clear. He looked back at her, his jaw set, but his eyes distant…as if recalling a memory. "I have told her everything," he whispered. "I have…_revealed_…to her everything, as well."

Antoinette only smiled. "I am glad," she whispered back. "Christine is a good girl, as you well know. She is one of the kindest, sweetest, and most compassionate people I know. And she has a very large heart, one that is capable of the greatest love."

"Yes," Erik murmured, his eyes staring down at the blank piece of paper. Christine had mentioned to him the other night of perhaps talking with Raoul; she never mentioned that the man should not be punished for his crimes, and she never once took the handsome knight's side, she remained steadfast and loyal to him alone. Even when she begged Erik not to kill Raoul right there in the garden, it wasn't because of Raoul…but because of _him_. She knew that he needed to be spared from another ghost…and when she had mentioned Raoul last night…she had done so because she knew that closure between the two of them needed to be created. This was all done for _his_ benefit, not Raoul's. Christine seemed to possess an understanding that would put the wisest of counselors to shame.

"You'll know what to do, my lord," Antoinette murmured with a smile, before curtsying and preparing to leave.

Erik watched her turn, and quickly reached out to grab her arm. "Wait!"

The dark woman turned, an eyebrow lifted in question. "Is there something else, my lord?"

Erik was amazed. Had she truly come up here to explain herself? Or was there another reason, a reason that involved her _knowing_ something…that he had not revealed to anyone, that even he himself did not know.

"That night, in the field, you told me that one of the reasons I needed to share everything with Christine was…was because…only by revealing everything to her, would the ghosts cease their torment…"

Antoinette closed her eyes and nodded her head. "And have they?" she asked, opening her eyes and lifting her other brow in question.

Had they? Old memories that he had thought he had suppressed for so long had flooded back when he revealed his past to Christine, telling her about Beatrice's betrayal, Elizabeth and Raoul's affair, and The Jackal's revenge. Yet…ever since he had told her about the memories…he had slept far more peacefully than ever before. And there was this mysterious sense of…_freedom_, which he could not explain. Perhaps Christine's love had truly exorcised the demons?

"There was something else you mentioned," he growled, as memories of Carlotta's trickery returned. "You said something about enemies, how by revealing my love for Christine, and trusting in her love, we would be able to vanquish our enemies and stand up to them—"

"Carlotta de Coleville is a wicked girl," Antoinette interrupted, her eyes dark, black looking, and filled with an ancient wisdom that made Erik's blood run cold. "My daughter told me about how she and her brother came to Winterbourne in hopes of intimidating Christine…and then later, how she had tried to seduce you…"

Erik's teeth were grinding against one another. He had never killed a lady before, but as far as he was concerned, Carlotta was no lady…and he didn't mind taking exception to her. "She failed," he growled, although he could not deny the feeling of shame that still washed over him for not realizing sooner that it wasn't Christine he had been kissing. "And she escaped, somehow…" he snarled, anger boiling through his veins as he recalled her disappearing through the secret passage, and even after Bernard had done a thorough search of the castle's passages…not a trace of her could be found. "But I will catch her, and once I do—"

"Carlotta is a wicked girl, my lord, but she is the least of your troubles," Antoinette muttered, her voice low and deep. "Philippe de Coleville…he is the one you must watch out for."

Philippe de Coleville. Erik remembered the boy well, and he especially remembered the horrible things he had done to Christine when she was just a child. The boy was only a few years older than his bride, but there was a sinister wisdom in his dark, demon like eyes, as well as something familiar that made Erik's blood turn to ice. Philippe looked at Christine like a wolf, prepared to launch itself upon a newly born lamb. Erik recalled the night he married Christine, and how Philippe had been looking at her then, and how when he caught the Black Knight's eye…his sneer relinquished somewhat…but his glare remained intact. That glare only became bolder, when he and his sister arrived at Winterbourne with hopes of frightening Christine. Erik couldn't simply write the boy off as being young, bold, and stupid. And even though Philippe was thin and looked as if he could easily be snapped in two…there was something about him…something dangerous.

"Yes, trust your instincts," Antoinette whispered, reading his thoughts in his eyes.

Erik looked down at her, his jaw tightening with warrior resolve. "What do you know about him?"

The woman sighed and looked down at her feet. "He is not the imbecile that his father is, and he is far more conniving than both his mother and his sister," she lifted her eyes then, and they were filled with warning. "He is clever, my lord, _very_ clever. And he does not give up, no matter how many setbacks are thrown his way…he never gives up on something he is determined to obtain…and possess."

A growl boiled up in the Black Knight's throat. "Christine…?"

Antoinette nodded her head. "At first he bullied her in the same fashion his sister bullied her, as I'm sure Christine has told you…but the bullying became worse, when combined with his lust for her. She is not a girl he loves, or passionately desires, but she represents something to him; a goal, a challenge, and she has grown more and more into that unattainable object ever since you descended upon them and married her. I was able to protect her as much as possible when I was there, and even after I had been released, Meg and Robert did their share. But I knew that the only way she would be safe is if she got out of there…and found someone, like you, who could protect her."

"So you think he will try again?" he asked, his voice deep and low, the stones beneath their feet reverberating.

"There is no doubt within my mind or my heart…that he will, my lord."

That was all Erik needed to hear. Without another word, he pushed himself past Antoinette, his feet taking the stairs, two at a time, determined to find Christine and his children, and keep them close by his side, with his sword ever present.

"My lord! My lord, wait!"

Erik growled and turned to look up at Antoinette, who was quickly descending the stairs, her dark eyes wide and frantic. "My lord…" she panted. "I just…one more thing…." Her hand patted her chest, just over her heart, and took a deep breath. "Trust your instincts, my lord, that is all I have to say."

Erik stared at the woman, his brow furrowed, his visible eyebrow lifted in confusion. "Trust my instincts?"

"Aye," Antoinette answered. "Your instincts are a far better weapon than your sword; trust in them, because they will reveal to you the whole truth, and solve this great mystery that has thrown you and your household onto his head."

Erik didn't understand. What on earth was she talking about? What mystery?

Antoinette grasped his shoulders with both hands, her eyes deeply penetrating his. "You know to whom I speak," she whispered. "He is not as far away as you may think…and he is not alone. Indeed, it is no coincidence that he has returned to you at the same time you took a new bride."

Erik stared at the woman with fascination and horror. Antoinette released his shoulders then…and simply walked away. Erik was tempted to race after her, grab her about the shoulders, and demand that she reveal more.

But his need to find Christine, to keep her protected, to keep his entire family protected, was even greater. He would speak with Antoinette later…and follow her advice to trust his instincts…which were telling him, right now, to find his wife.

* * *

Raoul's body hung limply from the shackles that kept his arms high above his head. His long, blonde hair, hung limply in dirty, oily strands about his face, which was leaning against his left shoulder, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, yet steady. 

However, his ears perked up at the sound of footsteps. He opened one eye to the only window in the entire tower, taking note of where the sun was in the sky. He was only given two meals a day, and it wasn't time for his second one…so who could it be?

The door to his tower cell opened then, a loud creak filling the room. Raoul managed to turn his head slightly, his eyes taking in the unannounced visitor, and widening slightly at the sight. "Well, well, well…" he whispered. "I must confess…you are the last person I ever expected to see here…Lady von Desslar."

Christine lifted her chin, after nodding her head in greeting to the prisoner. "Thank you," she whispered to the tower guard, who nodded his head and quietly shut the door behind her.

Despite his ragged appearance, Raoul cast a charming smile upon his visitor. "Forgive me, milady, for not being able to be a better host to you. I would bow, but as you can see…" he looked up at his shackles. "I am prevented. And I would offer you a cup of tea, or perhaps a glass of mead, but sadly—"

"Enough with the sarcasm," Christine interrupted, before taking a deep breath and locking her eyes with Sir Raoul's, her own glaring back into his.

Raoul lowered his head, slightly. "Forgive me, milady. I was merely trying to…make light of my rather dark situation. I have been told by my faithful warden," his head jerked towards the cell door to where the tower guard stood. "That I will be leaving Winterbourne soon, perhaps this very day, once Erik finishes his letter to the King."

Christine's eyes narrowed slightly. "You have no one but yourself to blame, when it comes to your 'dark situation'."

"Ah, so that is why I am having the pleasure of this visit," Raoul murmured. "The brave beauty has come to defend her monstrous husband—"

The loud smack of Christine's slap echoed around the tower. Silence fell between them both, and Christine took a step back, her fists trembling slightly as Raoul slowly lifted his head. "Thank you, milady," he whispered.

"Thank me?" she spat, amazed at his arrogance. "For what!?"

"For not punching me as you had done last time," he muttered, before lifting his eyes once more to hers.

"You deserve worse," Christine grumbled, folding her arms across her chest.

Raoul sighed and rolled his eyes. "Is that why you came? To simply cut what's left of my ego to shreds—"

"You loved Elizabeth, I know that now," Christine interrupted, taking Raoul completely off guard.

The once handsome knight stared at her with wide eyes, not expecting her to say that, let alone mention Elizabeth's name. "So Erik has revealed to you his side of the story, hmm?" he muttered, his hazel eyes darkening to a dangerous color. "Let me guess…I am the horrible creature who crept into the castle window and raped the Black Knight's young bride—"

"No, you are the horrible creature that left my husband to die on the battlefield!" Christine nearly shouted, her anger boiling as she glared at Sir Raoul. "And while it may surprise you, Erik's story of all that happened is far more equal sided than you would think," she spat. "I know all about your childhood, Raoul, about the time when you and Erik met at school, and how the two of you were great friends, how he helped you train to become one of the best knights the school ever saw."

Raoul did not say anything; rather he looked away, his jaw set, his teeth grinding together.

"Erik told me how the two of you stood up for another, how Lord Edwin paid for your schooling after your older brother threatened to pull his own funds away, and how Erik was willing to set aside his dreams so that you could succeed as a knight of the realm…and how you told Erik that if he did such a thing…you would step down."

Raoul still did not say anything…but the sound of his teeth grinding grew somewhat louder.

"Erik told me how you warned him about Beatrice, how you stood by him even after Beatrice was revealed to be a traitor, _and_ how you stood by him when he had been injured by The Jackal. And you were the one who encouraged him to marry, to find a wife, believing it would do him some good…yet your understanding of marriage was very different from Sir Erik's…"

Raoul turned his head back towards hers, his lips thin and tightly shut, and his eyes dark and glaring.

"You longed for a bride yourself…but because your fortune was not as vast as other men in your station, you were not seen as a proper 'catch' for many fathers with marriageable daughters," Christine took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his. "Erik wanted a mother for his children, not a wife…and it upset you, because you wanted what Erik had, you always wanted what Erik had, and when you met Elizabeth…you fell in love with her at first sight…"

"Be careful, milady…" Raoul warned, his voice a dangerously low pitch. "You say one word against Elizabeth—"

"I'm not going to," Christine reassured. The anger in her eyes had melted away into pity. "I cannot imagine how difficult it must have been…to watch a woman who you loved…and who loved you, marry someone else."

"Indeed," Raoul growled, his eyes flashing towards the window of his tower. "Elizabeth was young and impressionable; she would do whatever her father said, she was that dutiful a girl, but she didn't deserve the life Erik had planned for her, to watch and raise those meddlesome brats—"

"Do _not_ speak of _my_ children in such a way," Christine warned.

Raoul looked at her, his golden eyebrows lifting at her tone. "So the little imps managed to win your heart as well, I see," he murmured with amusement. "And I thought it would be an amazing enough feat for Erik to find someone to love him."

"I _do_ love him!" Christine growled, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. "And I love each and every one of those children, as if I had given birth to them myself!"

"Including Elizabeth's?" Raoul snarled, his eyes locking with hers, noticing that he had caught her off guard. "Or did your husband fail to mention that those two little cherubs that possess Elizabeth's emerald eyes are in fact, _hers?"_

Christine took a deep breath, reminding herself once more that Raoul was not aware that he was the one responsible for getting Elizabeth pregnant. She wouldn't reveal that to him, it wasn't her place to reveal it anyway, and Erik was their father as far as she, Erik, the girls, and the rest of the entire world was concerned.

"I know, yes," Christine murmured, lifting her chin. "I know the truth about all of them, I know everything, now. Erik has revealed it all to me, even his face," she stated, her eyes holding Raoul's in a long gaze. She noticed how Raoul paled slightly at this revelation. "I've seen his face, beneath the mask…and I still think he is as handsome as upon the day I met him," she declared, holding her head high. "I love him, _very much_, and he loves me, he has told me both in word and action." She took another step towards him, until she was only a few inches away. "You had hoped to use the Black Knight's secrets as a way to drive a wedge between us…but you are wrong. The revelation of those secrets have not torn us apart, they have made us stronger."

"Good for you," Raoul muttered with a roll of his eyes. "So now you have decided to bless me with this information because you want to make me feel horrible for not succeeding in destroying your marriage, is that it?"

Christine lifted a dark brow in question. _"Was_ that your intention? Was that why you chose, after all these years, to finally return from exile, and risk imprisonment and death?"

"It may sound pathetic to you, milady," Raoul grumbled. "But earlier you were sympathizing with me over watching the lady that I loved marry another man. I felt as if someone had cut out my own heart! And when I was sent into exile, and she disappeared, I felt as if I had died…and was now walking through hell!" He pushed himself away from the wall, his shackles stretching until he was leaning in close to Christine. "Sir Erik destroyed my chance at happiness because he refused to listen and let go of his own stubborn pride. If I can't have the woman I love…why should he?"

A chill ran down Christine's spine and she took several steps back. Was that a threat? It certainly sounded like one…and she did not care for the way Raoul was looking at her…

"Did you do it?" she asked, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, trying to calm herself and regain some control of the situation, once more.

Raoul looked confused by her question. "Do what?"

"The twins…" she murmured. "The threatening note discovered in their bedchamber, written and sealed by The Jackal. Was it you?"

Raoul's brow furrowed even more. "The Jackal has been dead for nearly ten years. Why would…" Raoul paused, as new understanding filled his eyes. "You think _I_ am posing as _The Jackal?_ That I am trying to drive Erik mad into thinking that the ghost of his old nemesis has been resurrected and is prepared to extract his revenge upon the inhabitants of Winterbourne?" a wild laugh escaped Raoul's throat. "Now _that_, is an ingenious idea…almost makes me wish I had thought of it."

Was he speaking the truth? Did he truly know nothing about the note? Christine had been so sure once upon a time, but now, ever since Erik had revealed the stories of his past…she began to doubt her original theory.

Yet...he could be lying, trying to throw her off. That laugh of his had sounded rather…mad. Perhaps Raoul's anger and jealousy had driven him over the edge? Perhaps he was capable of making such threats…and then lying to cover his tracks?

Raoul noticed the conflict in Christine's eyes. "I suppose, milady, the question becomes…am I the sort of man who would threaten the very lives of the children of the woman I loved, just so I could make the man who has caused great suffering in my life…to suffer, as well?"

"If I find that you are, then you haven't even begun to suffer..."

Christine froze at the dark, menacing voice that filled the tower cell. Raoul, however, plastered on a polite smile and bowed his head. "Ah, Erik…so glad you could come; your wife truly is a charming hostess, she and I were having the most delightful of conversations!"

Erik ignored Raoul's false politeness and walked over to Christine's side. Christine bit her lip, wondering if she would see anger in the Black Knight's eyes for her even being there…but instead, she saw relief in their depths, something that caused her brow to crinkle with question.

"I told the children that you would sing to them, my dear," he murmured, although his eyes were locked with those of Raoul's. "Go inside the castle; they are waiting for you in the great hall. I will be there shortly."

Christine didn't question her husband's words, and she didn't glance back at Raoul. She simply nodded her head and squeezed Sir Erik's hand, before turning to leave.

"Oh Christine," Raoul called out, another charming smile spreading across his face as she turned to look at him, annoyance clearly written in her eyes. "Thank you for the talk…I hope your husband is truly aware of how _lucky_ he is to have you…"

"Shut the door!" Erik barked to the guard, his eyes never leaving Raoul's. As soon as the door was shut, he leaned in, snarling. "I am _very_ aware," he growled, before grabbing the collar of Raoul's tunic and pulling the weakened knight up off the ground, his masked face mere inches from Raoul's dirty one. "And don't you EVER threaten my wife or family again…"

* * *

Christine knew that the children weren't truly interested in hearing one of her songs, they were having too much fun going through some of the items that had been brought inside the castle, trying to decided what piece of furniture should go where, and where certain paintings should hang, and so on and so forth. 

Charles and the twins were slightly upset that there were no toys in the wagons. Helena begged Christine to help her with putting on some of the beautiful jewels, and Jacob was in awe of several large pieces of armory that had come, many of which were used for decorative purposes, to be hung on walls, but he still gazed at them in wonder.

"Oh Mama," Helena purred, running her hands across several gowns. "These are all so beautiful! Will you be wearing one of them at dinner tonight?"

Christine smiled at her daughter, but in truth she gazed at the dresses with disgust. They belonged to Carlotta, and while they were beautiful, Christine wanted nothing to do with her former mistress.

"Do you think I could wear them when I am older?" Helena asked, smiling down at one red gown, which she truly believed complimented her hair.

"Mama, may I have this jeweled trunk?" Charles asked, tugging on Christine's hand and pointing at a blue trunk, encrusted with several large red rubies, and lined with gold. "It looks just like a pirate's treasure chest!"

"Let us try! Let us try!" Sarah and Sabrina cried in unison, wanting to put on some of the jewels that Helena was displaying around her neck and on her fingers.

"Do you think I could hang this shield over my bed?" Jacob asked, holding up a striking blue shield that had a white strip going down its middle, with a red dragon at its center.

All of the children were talking so loudly, and paying so much attention to the items in the great hall, that they did not notice the giant shadow of their father, until he cleared his throat.

Christine whipped her head around, her breath catching and her body tense, as she gazed into his eyes to see if she could read his thoughts and learn what was exchanged between himself and Sir Raoul.

"Papa!" Charles grinned, pointing to the beautiful jeweled trunk. "I was just asking Mama if I could have the trunk…may I?"

"Where did you get all these things, Papa?" Helena asked, proudly displaying the beautiful jewels she was wearing.

Erik smiled at his children, but his eyes held those of his wife. "Put the items away for now, for they are your mother's."

Christine's face paled slightly at this revelation, and all the children turned and gazed at her with wide eyes. "Are they really yours, Mama?" Helena asked with a gasp. She then launched herself at one of the dresses and clasped it to her chest. "May I have this? Please? I—"

"Helena," her father said in a warning voice. The little girl bit her lip and put the dress down.

Christine slowly rose to her feet, continuing to hold her husband's gaze. "Children, will you excuse us? I need to speak with your father about…about these things," Christine murmured, to which the children simply nodded their heads.

Erik also nodded his head. "Let us speak in my chambers," he murmured, offering his arm to his wife, to which Christine took, although she did not meet his eyes as they traveled from the great hall to Sir Erik's chambers. They walked in silence, not speaking or looking at one another, until they reached the room and Erik had shut the door behind them.

"You went to the de Coleville's!?" Christine gasped, turning around and staring up at the Black Knight with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"I thought you would recognize the items," Erik muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

Christine was still stunned. "I…how…why?" she finally managed to get out. "Why did you…?"

Erik moved towards her and took one of her hands into his. "I went because their wedding present was long overdue," he murmured, before lifting her hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss upon the knuckles. "And because they owe you for your many years of service to them."

Christine shivered slightly, as she imagined the exchange that must have taken place between her former employers, and the Black Knight. Perhaps _that_ was why Carlotta had attempted her evil tricks? Perhaps the snobby girl was trying to extract her revenge because Sir Erik had taken away her precious gowns and jewels? "Erik…" Christine bit her lip and slowly pulled her hand away, and wrapped her own arms around her body. She moved towards the window and gazed out at the courtyard below "I…I thank you for…for all that you did…but…I'm sorry, I…" she turned and gazed at him with sorrowful eyes. "I don't want it."

A part of her expected that he would explode, or at least argue with her about the items, telling her over and over that she deserved them, especially after revealing how horrid her former employers had been. But instead…he simply folded his hands behind his back and nodded his head, before silently coming towards her. "I thought as much," he murmured.

Christine's brow furrowed with confusion. "You…you did? Then…then why—"

"I wanted to give you the choice," he explained. "I don't think anyone would blame you or think ill of you if you chose to keep some, if not all of the items…but in the time I have known you, my love…I have also learned the sort of person that you are…therefore we will allow the servants to choose any of the items they wish to have, and give the rest to our tenants and the nuns at the abbey to use as profit to give to the poor."

Christine looked up at her husband in absolute amazement, and a smile slowly spread across her face, her eyes filling with happy tears at the sweet understanding that this man had for her, and at the wonderful way he had come to know her. "Well…let us give the children one item each, as well."

Erik smiled and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss upon his wife's forehead. "Very well," he whispered

Christine's eyes fluttered shut as she felt her husband's warm lips, and her heart soared with love for the dark, fearsome warrior who stood before her, but who showed her such gentleness, such tenderness, and who stirred a passion within her that never truly quenched her thirst for him. She loved him so deeply, so passionately, and she truly could not imagine her life without him or his love.

She turned her face upward, hoping that he would kiss her, but when she did not feel his lips touch hers, she opened her eyes to see what the matter was. Perhaps now he would tell her how disappointed he was with her for discovering her in the tower cell, and talking to Sir Raoul? But she did not see disappointment in his eyes, or anger; instead, there was some other emotion, one that mirrored the relief she had seen in his eyes when he had found her, earlier, in the tower.

"There is one item, however, that I think you should keep for yourself," Erik finally murmured, stepping away from her and going to a saddlebag that was hanging off a chair, in the corner of the chamber. Christine watched with curious eyes as he opened the saddlebag, wondering what was inside.

Her breath caught in her throat…as she watched him pull a long, rolled up piece of fabric from the bag…and she swore her heart stopped beating…as he slowly unrolled the fabric…to reveal the beloved tapestry her father had given her, long ago.

Christine reached out and grasped the edge of her husband's desk, as she stared with wide, unbelieving eyes at the unrolled tapestry. "How…how did you…?" she looked into her husband's golden eyes, but his masked face quickly became blurred from the surprised, joyful tears that formed.

"You never told me about the tapestry," Erik murmured, "but I remembered you telling me about your father leaving you a gift, before he died…and I remember the way you looked at it, on the night of our wedding."

A sob escaped Christine's throat, and she stumbled forward, her hands reaching out and touching the old, smooth fabric, running over the beautiful picture that it depicted, feeling as if her parents were back, alive once more. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she gazed up at Sir Erik's face, her words catching in her throat, but no words were needed; even if Pierre de Coleville hadn't revealed to him that this tapestry meant something to Christine, he would have made the connection. And his heart truly lifted, as despite her sobs, he could tell that she truly was happy.

"T-t-t-thank you!" she gasped, finally able to speak, and Christine gently laid the tapestry aside on the table, and went into her husband's arms, her face buried against his chest, her tears wetting the fabric of his tunic, but Erik simply held her, his arms tightening around her body, his lips smoothing soft kisses into her brown curls as she clung to him and cried. Christine had told him many times in the past how happy he had made her, how glad she was to be at Winterbourne, to be his wife, and how deeply she loved both him and the children…but right now, he truly felt like a king; he had given her something precious and meaningful, without her even having to ask for it. He _knew_ he had made her happy, and that simple piece of knowledge truly brought peace to his heart.

"No one will ever take it away from you again, my love," Erik whispered into her hair. "You are truly free of them…they will never lay a hand on you, they will never take anything from you…I promise you, Christine; you are free. You are _free…"_

A beautiful, loving laugh escaped her throat, and she clung to him even tighter, as he softly rained kisses over her face. She lifted her lips, and Erik all too gladly took her sweet offering, covering her mouth with his own, kissing her back with all the love and joy she had given him.

But also in that kiss was a promise, a solemn vow that he had not mentioned to her, but that he would see through…

No one was going to harm her, or his family. No one was going to take her from him; she was his and his alone. And if anyone, especially Philippe de Coleville tried anything…

Then Ghost Maker would claim another life for the afterworld.


	41. Difficult Decisions

**Hello!** Just a few more chapters left!In other story news, my updates over the next few weeks will be a little slower, mainly due to work, travel, and Harry Potter (SNAPE IS INNOCENT!) I'll update when I can, just be prepared for shorter and fewer updates over the next few weeks, but my goal is to finish **_Tapestry_** before the end of the summer! So thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the latest installment!

* * *

**Summary:** Things seem perfect now for Sir Erik and his family, but the tapestry does bring some questions, as well as the daunting task of what to do with Sir Raoul. However, a shadow is about to fall over Winterbourne's blissful peace...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Difficult Decisions_**

Christine sighed happily as she snuggled her head against her husband's bare chest, breathing in his wonderful, male fragrance. A soft purr escaped her lips as she felt one of his strong, muscular arms pull her even closer to his hard, naked body.

Perfect. Life was truly perfect, it seemed.

After Sir Erik had revealed her tapestry, she clung to him tightly and cried her happiness against his chest, while he patiently and lovingly held her against him. He murmured several promises into her hair, promises of protection and love; to which she responded with a thankful smile, and an even more thankful kiss.

The kiss, which began as soft and tender, soon became more. Christine wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, and grinned against his lips as she felt his own arms, as strong as tree limbs, wrap around her waist and lift her off the ground, until her feet were dangling in the air. The kiss deepened, his tongue tasting the delicious secrets of her mouth, and Christine offered her tongue in return. They began to move towards the bed, but a loud knock on the door brought them both back to reality.

"Mama? Papa? Can I have the jeweled trunk? Please?"

Erik groaned, but Christine couldn't help but giggle at Charles' insistence, and with some reluctance, the two released each other, but not before Erik growled into her ear, "until later, madam wife…"

Christine and Sir Erik returned to the great hall, and it was there that Christine revealed to all the children gathered that everything Sir Erik's men had brought back, were actually from Christine's former life. The children did not know about their mother's past, and so Christine told them how once upon a time, she was a servant, much like Anne and Meg, but that she worked for a cruel family, nothing at all like their father's household. Christine did not go into details about the cruelty she had endured, but rather told the children about Philippe and Carlotta, who they remembered coming to the castle, and watching from a hidden place, saw their mother bravely stand up to the vile pair. Upon learning this, some of the children were reluctant about the items they had desired, but Erik reassured them that the items were now Christine's, that they were a "late wedding present" from the de Coleville's, her "dowry" so to speak. Christine told the children she had decided to allow all of them to choose at least one item, and that the rest would be dispensed to the servants, Sir Erik's tenants, and the poor who lived beyond Winterbourne. Charles got his trunk, Jacob chose the shield he had been admiring earlier, and both of the twins selected two lovely jeweled necklaces. Helena, however, wanted nothing that may have once belonged to Carlotta, so instead, she chose a pretty tapestry that depicted a unicorn, galloping through a majestic forest, to hang upon the wall near her bed. After the children had finished choosing their items, they helped Christine with dispensing of the rest to the servants, and loading a wagon with what was left to be taken about to the tenants, as well as to the abbey for the nuns to give away to the poor.

Much to the children's delight, Sir Erik joined them, something that Christine could not help but admit she was surprised about. She knew that Erik was plagued with pressing thoughts on what to do with a certain prisoner, and she could not help but wonder what had gone on after Sir Erik had discovered her in the tower, and asked her to leave. Yet she was happy to have his company, and it warmed her heart to watch him interact with the children, while helping them load the wagon…yet she also could not help but notice…ever since he had found her in the tower, he had been much more…attentive? Watchful? Perhaps even…on guard?

While he laughed and smiled with the children, she could tell that there was something bothering him, something troubling him, and whatever it was, she could tell it did not involve Sir Raoul.

This was something else…and it made her blood run cold with worry.

Yet the worries she had felt were quickly pushed aside when the family gathered for dinner, together. It was a hearty meal, and Christine knew that Antoinette had something to do with it; she was a wonderful cook, which could not be denied. Because they had been awake before the sun rose, the children were very tired, and they all went off to bed right after finishing their food. Erik took Christine's hand, and silently led her back to his chamber. A fire was already glowing within its hearth, and Christine smiled as she noticed that her family's tapestry was also hanging on one of the walls.

She and Sir Erik sat before the fire, and Erik asked her to sing for him. Christine happily sang; soft, beautiful madrigals, poetic songs filled with love and romance. Erik looked at her hungrily, and asked her to sing the song about the ghost and the maiden, to which Christine did, although she was very much aware of the desire that filled her husband's golden eyes, eyes that resembled the very fire burning before them.

Erik rose from his chair and slowly stalked towards her while she sang, igniting Christine's blood with the way he looked at her. He removed his mask, and placed it upon the mantle of the fireplace, while his eyes raked across her, his own blood growing hotter as he felt his wife's tender gaze lovingly admire his face. She continued singing as he moved around her, kneeling behind her chair, and she gasped between notes, as she felt his hands come around the chair…and move down her shoulders and arms.

"Keep singing, my love…" he growled. "You have no idea what your voice does to me…"

Did he have any idea of what _his_ voice did to her? Or his eyes? Or his hands, even? Christine closed her eyes and continued to sing, moaning now and then as she felt his hands move across her body, one running across her breasts, while the other ran over her thigh.

"Yesssssss…my sweet angel…" he growled, leaning his head over the chair to nip at her neck, while one of his hands slid beneath the bodice of her gown to cup her breast, while the other tugged at the hem of her skirt, lifting it until his hand could feel the smooth skin of her thigh. "Keep singing," he groaned against her ear, his mouth nipping at the lobe, while his fingers pinched her nipple. "Sing about the maiden…tell me what happens when she finds her ghost…"

Christine was becoming more and more feverish with desire, especially as she felt Erik's fingers climb high upon her thigh, moving towards her center, which was dewy with anticipation. Her brow furrowed as she continued her song, trying very, very hard to concentrate on the story that it wove, the romance about the maiden in search of her beloved knight, only to discover that he was in deed the terrible ghost people feared. Of course, the story always ended after the maiden and the ghost kissed, releasing him from the horrible spell that his enemies had placed upon him, and once she arrived at that point in her song, she had nothing else to sing…other than sigh her pleasure for the delicious torment her husband's fingers were causing.

Erik was leaning over her body, one hand squeezing and caressing her breasts, neck, and stomach, while the other reached its destination…and allowed two fingers to trace the swollen lips of her womanhood, before gently entering her moist heat. Christine's body arched at her husband's gesture, and she moaned deeply as his fingers sunk even deeper. "That is not the end of the story…" he growled, creating a gentle, yet urgent rhythm with his fingers.

Christine could barely speak, she was lost in the pleasure his fingers were creating. "It's…it's…it's not?" she gasped, gripping the arms of her chair as her hips began to instinctively respond to the thrusts of his fingers.

"Nay…" he whispered, as he moved around the chair, until he was in front of her, kneeling. "You did not sing to me about how the ghost, now made flesh…makes love to his maiden, before the fire…"

Christine looked down at her husband, her blue eyes dark with desire as he pushed the rest of her skirts up to her waist, so he could lean in, better to lick and taste her hot, silken flesh. "E-e-e-errrrrrrrrrrik…" she gasped, as his tongue ran along the length of her heat, before circling her clitoris.

"Sing, Christine," he growled, gripping her thighs and placing them over his shoulders. "Sing for me…sing for me the song that only a woman in pleasure can sing!"

He tortured her, tormented her, and drove her mad with desire with only his tongue. Christine rocked her hips against his mouth, her head falling against her shoulder, her body arching up every time his tongue circled her clitoris, driving her wild with pleasure. Her mews, her moans, her very whimpers were the song he was longing to hear, and she filled his ears with that sound, telling him how much she loved him, telling him how good he made her feel. He did not move away, he did not cease his torment when she warned him that she was near pleasure's precipice. When the world shattered around her, when she screamed her ecstasy, he held her to him, until the last of her shivers subsided. Only then did he lift his face.

"E-e-e-erik…" she panted, a dark blush coloring her cheeks. She watched with eager eyes as he removed his clothes, letting them fall to the floor, his massive, muscled body, glowing in the firelight as it was bared before her. Christine hungrily gazed upon his flesh, her eyes lingering upon the engorged organ that seemed to be pulsing with desire. Erik sucked in a hiss as he felt his wife's small, soft fingers, wrap around his length and stroke him tenderly.

"Christine…" he warned, when her fingers did not stop their sweet ministrations. He wanted to cover her body with his own, he wanted to feel her tremble with need as he held her in his arms, and he especially wanted to feel that explosion of pleasure while he was buried deep within.

His eyes went wide and an exclamation escaped his lips, as he felt her soft, silky tongue, tentatively lick the tip of his shaft. "GOD!" he shouted, gasping as her fingers moved beneath his cock to hold and softly squeeze the sacks at its base, while her lips wrapped around the head of his cock and gently sucked. Erik groaned and felt his fingers tangle in Christine's hair as she happily continued her own sweet torture upon his flesh. God, it felt good, sharing pleasure with her, being intimate with her in a way that he never thought was possible with a woman. He could trust his whole heart, his whole soul with her, and he could love her without fear of betrayal or rejection.

"C-c-chrissssssstine…" he groaned, feeling his own release quickly coming upon him. He loved what she was doing, he loved the boldness of his little wife, but he needed her, he needed to be joined with her and experience this pleasure with her. He leaned down and scooped her up and kissed her deeply, while her legs wrapped around his body. Before they had even reached the bed, Erik was inside her, pumping and thrusting, gasping and groaning in deep, loving pleasure. Christine's nails raked across his back, her body arched up towards his, and his lips kissed, sucked, and nipped at her neck, as she leaned her head towards his shoulder, moaning and whimpering his name over and over.

They came together, pleasure and passion crashing together like two waves upon a storm-ridden sea. They each panted and trembled in the aftermath of the tempest, moaning each other's names as their bodies tangled with the sheets beneath them.

"I love you…" Christine whispered against her husband's chest.

"And I love you…" Erik murmured back, his lips finding her brow and placing a sweet, tender kiss upon the skin.

They held each other, allowing sleep to take them, waking up now and then, making love again, tenderly, softly, before falling asleep once more. The third time they awoke, they simply held each other, listening to one another's breathing as they both gazed at the tapestry that hung nearby.

"Tell me about it…" Erik murmured in the darkness.

"My great-grandmother on my father's side made it," Christine began, recalling the story her parents had told her about the tapestry. "It took her six years to create. She worked for a nobleman in the north, actually. Like you."

Erik found this interesting, but he remained quiet, curious to hear more.

"My father told me that she had created the tapestry for her master, but as a reward for her many good years of service, he commanded that she keep the tapestry, and pass it on to her children, and their children, and so forth," Christine explained.

"Do you know the name of this noble that she served?" he asked, his curiosity growing.

"I'm afraid not," Christine sighed. "Father never gave me his name, so I do not even know if he knew."

"Hmmm…" Erik gazed at the tapestry, his brow furrowing. He could not get over how much the castle resembled Winterbourne…or how Christine's song resembled it, as well. "Your song, the one about the maiden and the ghost?"

Christine blushed deeply, recalling all the delicious memories from earlier that the song had inspired. "Y-yes?"

"Was it…inspired at all, from the tapestry?"

Christine turned her eyes back upon the tapestry and recalled her father, holding it open and smiling down at her, while her mother sang the song. "My mother created the song, based on a bedtime story that my grandmother told my father," Christine whispered. "She sang it to me one night, after I had had a nightmare about a ghost. She told me that ghosts couldn't hurt me, and that not all ghosts were bad…and then she sang the song."

"Did your father say anything ever about the story?"

Christine propped herself up on her elbow to gaze into her husband's eyes. "Simply…that it were a story that had been passed down…why do you ask?"

Erik's fingers tenderly brushed a fallen curl from her cheek. "I can't explain, exactly. Just…when you first sang your song…and when I first saw this tapestry, I could not get over how…alike, both of them are…to Winterbourne."

Christine looked at the tapestry once more, her eyes widening slightly as she took in everything Sir Erik had said. The dark castle against the sea…it did resemble Winterbourne, just slightly. And in the song, it mentioned how the maiden went into a dark castle by the sea, where she found her beloved. The two figures gazing out over their kingdom were a knight and his lady, and Christine had always assumed that they were behind the inspiration to the song, that the ghostly knight and his beloved were in fact the very couple that stood upon a tower balcony and looked out over the endless fields of roses.

"But Erik…" Christine turned once more until she was facing her husband. "Other than the castle and the sea…what over similarities are there?"

She was quite right, of course. The castle was dark, just like Winterbourne, and in the background was a tumultuous sea, but other than that…what other similarities could he find between the song, the tapestry, and Winterbourne? There were no fields of roses, there was no secret tower, there were no…

Monsters.

In the song, the maiden had to fight monsters to reach her beloved. And the knight she was searching for was in fact, a ghost. But upon kissing him, upon declaring her love, the ghost became human, and it was revealed that he was in fact, her beloved knight. Erik had always thought of himself as the ghost in her story, the shell of a knight who was haunted and plagued by…by monsters of the past. But Christine's kiss, Christine's love, had awakened him, and had made him feel more human than ever before.

Was that a similarity? Or was his imagination getting the better of him in its quest for comparisons?

Irony, that was all it was. Pure, simple, irony. The story had been created after the tapestry had been completed, and was passed on by Christine's great-grandmother. As each generation inherited the tapestry, so did they also inherit the story. That was all it was, nothing more. Besides, there were many castles along the northern seashore; Winterbourne was not the only one. To assume that Christine's great-grandmother was once a servant at Winterbourne was…

Preposterous.

"Erik?"

He looked down and saw Christine's beautiful blue eyes, gazing up at him with concern and question.

"Nothing," he murmured, before leaning forward to kiss her brow. "Go to sleep, little one. We have had a very long day, and tomorrow will be a busy one as well."

Christine's brow furrowed at his words. "Why is that?"

"Well, besides distributing the goods from Pierre de Coleville's home, I also want to go about the task of moving my things to your chamber."

Christine's eyes widened at her husband's words. "M-m-move your things? To…to _my_ chamber?"

"Yes, if that is alright with you, of course," Erik sighed, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her confusion. "I must confess, I prefer the view from your chamber, and it is rather tiring, trying to keep track of whose chamber we're spending the night in, when it would just be simpler to keep one chamber, don't you agree?"

Christine stared at her husband before a large grin finally crept its way across her face. She then grabbed a pillow and playfully pummeled him with the soft object. Erik laughed and caught her about the waist, holding her at bay. "I must admit that this was not the sort of response I was expecting."

Christine tried to look stern, but couldn't help but giggle. "I would be most honored to have you share my chamber, good knight," she grinned, "but there is something you must keep in mind…"

Erik cocked a brow at her words. "And that is?"

A smile grew as she straddled his body, his eyes admiring her beautiful figure, his hands already guiding her hips to where he needed her most.

"I am mistress of my chamber, therefore I set the rules," she purred, her cheeks flaming deeply, but her eyes twinkling with devilish delight.

"Very well, madam wife," Erik groaned, when his and Christine's body made contact. "I always admired a woman who's not afraid to take charge."

* * *

Carlotta was fuming. 

She sat in her chamber at the Valmour inn, drumming her fingers on the table as she gazed out the window at the dark village. She hadn't been able to get any sleep that night; in fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept properly! Every time she closed her eyes, she kept seeing that…_that face!_

Her room was just next door to that of her brother's, and she kept hearing movement inside, but she knew that it didn't belong to Philippe. Philippe had been away from the inn ever since the other night, the day after their botched plan. After their little encounter in the secret passages beneath Sir Erik's castle, Philippe ordered her to go back to the inn, while he would discuss further plans with…with _them_.

Who were these people!? Why hadn't Philippe told her before that others were also involved? And what was the story behind their leader, anyway?

Two large, burly bearded men, escorted her back to the inn, ordering her as if they were her lords and masters to go straight to her room and await further instructions, while they would take a pint of ale from the inn's tavern. Carlotta didn't care that people were looking, she threw a huge fit, demanding their names, telling them that they had no right in ordering her about, and wanting to know where her brother was in all this!

One of the burly men looked ready to smack her, but the other held his friend's hand back, and without another word, grabbed Carlotta by the waist, and hoisted her up over his shoulder, before depositing her on her rump, in her room, and slamming the door behind him. Carlotta was fully prepared to chase after the man, screaming at him as she scrambled back to her feet…but much to her shock and horror, somehow the man had found a way to lock her door…from the outside! Who were these people!? What had her brother gotten them into!?

All day and all night, Carlotta sat in her room, with not so much as an explanation to what was going on. The burly men brought her food from the innkeeper, and often went into the room next door, either bringing with them a prostitute, or choosing to go through her brother's things. Carlotta simply prayed that they would not tire of their bevy of prostitutes to come after her, but she seemed to be more insulted that they did not even once _try_ to knock or bang on her door to get to her. Were village whores truly better than she!?

Carlotta's head snapped up as she heard the familiar sound of Philippe's boots upon the floorboards just outside her room. She could also hear his voice, speaking with one of the bearded idiots that caged her. The words were too muffled through the wood; she couldn't make out what they were saying exactly. Also, they seemed to be talking in hushed tones…

Finally, the door opened, and Philippe stood in the doorway, making a motion with his head to one of the men, before turning his attentions upon his sister.

"I see that they locked you up," he observed, before shutting the door behind him.

"PHILIPPE!" Carlotta screeched, stomping her foot hard upon the floor. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?"

"Keep your voice down!" Philippe hissed, glancing behind him at the door. Good God, who knew what sort of scenes she had caused since he had last seen her?

Carlotta bristled at this command. "I will NOT keep my voice down UNTIL YOU EXPLAIN YOURSELF—"

Any other words that were going to escape the spoiled girl's mouth were lost in the shock…of her brother's slap.

Carlotta had stumbled backwards from the blow, and her hand flew to her cheek to cover the stinging pain that was spreading like wildfire across her skin. She looked up at her brother with wide, surprised, and terrified eyes. Never, not once, had he ever raised his hand against her. She knew that he had become angry with her, annoyed by her, but never had he struck her before! She opened her mouth to say something, but cringed the second Philippe pointed his finger in her face.

"You will not shout, you will not scream, and you will only speak when I say you can," he growled, his eyes glowing with hellfire.

Carlotta always knew her brother was capable of wickedness and deceit; but this was a new side of him that she had never seen before.

Evil.

"Your job, and it's quite a simple one so even you can't botch it up," Philippe muttered. "Is to sit here, be quiet…and do what I say."

Carlotta glared up at him, but chose to keep her distance. Controlling her raging emotions, she cleared her throat and calmly placed her hands upon her lap. "May I speak?"

Philippe eyed her for a long moment, before he silently nodded his head, although his hands remained balled up, as if warning her that he would not hesitate in slapping her again, if she raised her voice once more.

"What are we doing!?" she hissed.

Philippe's brow furrowed. "What are we doing…? Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you wanted Sir Erik's fortune! I thought you wanted revenge upon Christine! I thought—"

"I did!" Carlotta hissed, trying her hardest to keep her voice down. "Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see Christine get what she deserves," she growled. "But why do you care so much? At first I thought it was because you wanted to help me…but ever since we came to this village…and ever since we went to Winterbourne, you…you have been acting strangely!"

Philippe waved his hand at her, as if the words she spoke meant nothing. He walked over to a table where a bottle of wine sat, and poured himself a glass.

Carlotta, however, was not going to be so easily dismissed.

"Who are these people, Philippe? Why didn't you tell me we were not alone in this!?"

Philippe ignored her and instead, took a great gulp of the wine.

Carlotta rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "I don't like them; I don't like the way they look at me—"

Philippe rolled his own eyes then. He knew that the men barely looked at Carlotta; it insulted her more that they _didn't_ look at her.

"And I don't like the way they seem to…to have control over everything!" she continued.

Philippe couldn't help but chuckle at these words. "They _don't_ have control over everything, trust me."

Carlotta cocked a brow at this statement. "Oh really? Then why are you listening to them! Why are you allowing them to make these decisions! Why—"

"They DON'T have control over everything!" Philippe emphasized, with a snarl. Carlotta backed away, but her dark eyes were still glowing with fury and confusion. "I know what I'm doing," Philippe growled. "Trust me, I have everything under control, I—"

There was a loud knock on the door. Philippe groaned and muttered an "enter!" to which one of the burly men poked his head inside. "The boss is back," he muttered, in a low voice.

A muscle under Philippe's eye twitched at these words. "_I_ am the boss!" he hissed, poking a thumb at his chest. "I'm running things! I'm giving the orders and…" he looked over his shoulder as he heard soft giggling coming from behind him.

Carlotta was smiling sweetly, but beneath that demure look was an evil harpy. "Are you _absolutely sure_ you have everything under control, dear brother?"

Philippe's lip curled into a snarl at his sister's words. He then pushed past the man that stood in the doorway, slamming the door behind him, and Carlotta listened as he marched down the steps of the inn, and with her window wide open, she was able to hear the conversation that was taking place between her brother, and his mysterious "friend".

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?" Philippe shouted.

Carlotta peered out the window, but cursed the shadows that concealed Philippe's friend.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Philippe."

Philippe groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "We were supposed to meet at dawn, down by the beach, near that blasted cave! I waited for hours! Where were you!?"

"Keep your voice down, do you want the entire village hearing you?"

"Damn the village," Philippe spat. "And answer my question!"

"I don't have to answer your question, I have my reasons for the delay. And you have no right speaking to me in that tone. If not for me, you would have died all those years ago, if I hadn't stopped them from running you through with a sword…or have you forgotten, my friend?"

A gasp escaped Carlotta's mouth. She knew that her brother was keeping something from her; it was obvious he had some sort of connection to these people…but was it true? Had this mysterious stranger truly saved Philippe's life at some point?

"I remember it well," the stranger continued, with a soft chuckle "You were only a boy then, pressured to play a prank, although it turned out you weren't exactly the cleverest of pranksters. Yet in the end, I would say it turned out for the best, wouldn't you?"

Despite the shadows around them, Philippe's cheeks were a deep shade of scarlet. "You told the men that _I_ was running things, yet they still seem to be under some delusion of calling you 'boss'!"

"Well, what can I say? Old habits die hard."

"It doesn't help when you disobey my orders or my instructions," Philippe grumbled. "Where were you? Why didn't we meet me on the beach as planned?"

The stranger's voice was icy. "I told you…I had my reasons, and I will not explain them to you."

"Fine," Philippe grumbled, turning his back and stalking over to the inn. "I'll have some wine and food ordered for you—"

"I'm not going in there."

Philippe paused his steps, turning to face his friend, looking more confused than ever before. "What? What are you talking about? What do you mean you're not going in there? It's far less conspicuous than going back to the sh—"

"That may be," his friend interrupted. "But it is far too dangerous to enter in the first place. My men have been watching, long before you even arrived in Valmour. I know that…that _he_ has sent his spies…"

Philippe glanced over his shoulder, before reaching out and grabbing the arm of his companion and leading them over to a more secluded, and darker area, one that even blinded Carlotta's eyes. In fact, they spoke in such hushed voices, she couldn't even hear what they were saying…

"I noticed them a few days ago. Carlotta had slipped out and I had gone in search for her; I suspected as much, but I—"

"You should never have brought her. Not only is she a menace, but also a threat! She could ruin everything…"

"Our men kept watch over her; she stayed in her room all day and night—"

"Forgive me, Philippe, but I have been doing this for far longer than you, so trust me when I say that it is far more suspicious for a girl to be kept in her room for days on end, and who has to be constantly watched!"

"Well what do you want me to do!?" Philippe hissed, growing more and more irritated. "I can't just let her wander about as she pleases! You know the temper she has; you know how indiscreet she can be!"

"Indeed," his companion murmured. "I was sixteen once, too. Well, there is only one suitable place to put her, to avoid any more indiscretion."

Philippe groaned in frustration. "She won't stand for it; she'll make more of a fuss than ever before, she'll—"

"You wanted to be in charge, so take charge of your sister! I know you, Philippe, I know that you are truly capable of ruthlessness, so don't hesitate to extract that upon your own sister, if you must. But it's better that she go with the men, before daybreak, and before any of his spies—"

"No, no, that will look just as bad," Philippe muttered.

"It's the only answer—"

"If they weren't suspicious before, they'll be doubly suspicious that my sister has left!" Philippe hissed. "They have been watching us…like hawks."

"Fool," muttered the other. "This whole idea of yours was completely foolish! You should have planned things better, you should have—"

"I AM IN COMPLETE CONTROL!" Philippe fumed, pounding his fist against a barrel.

"Oh really? I've listened to your plans, I've listened to your ideas, and I must say that I even found most of them quite cunning and clever, but the mistake you made with thinking that Sir Erik would not send his spies, is completely—"

"I said, I have EVERYTHING under control," Philippe growled, his voice dangerously low.

A long silence past between the two of them. Finally, the other spoke. "Are you going to share with me this supposed plan of yours?"

Philippe thought about his answer, before simply replying, "no."

"What do you mean, 'no'? These are MY men, de Coleville, I and will not have you use them—"

"They are OUR men," Philippe hissed. "And I will use them however I wish. And just as you have your reasons for keeping secrets, so do I have my reasons for not revealing, entirely, all my plans."

And with that said, Philippe turned on his heel, stalking back towards the inn, leaving his stunned companion in the darkness.

* * *

Dawn was approaching. It could not be seen, but Erik felt it. Years of traveling and preparing for early morning battles had set the instinct within him. A soft, even breathing could be heard from his side. He looked down at the sleeping beauty, her naked body curled against his, her smooth cheek pressed against his chest; he kissed her brow, and gently lifted her head, allowing him to slowly and carefully rise from the bed. 

Christine moaned his name softly in her sleep, before snuggling her head against a pillow that Erik had placed for her. He gazed down at her, feelings of contentment, love, and awe rushing through him. This woman, this small, extraordinary woman, had not only changed his life, but his entire world. For the first time ever, he felt peace. For the first time ever, he felt happiness. And it was all made possible, because she chose to deceive him by pretending to be her spoiled mistress.

Erik hated deceit, he loathed it deeply; but he would thank God for the rest of his days, for the deceit that brought Christine into his life.

A heavy sigh escaped his lungs, as he tore himself away from the beautiful and tempting sight of his sleeping wife. He pulled on his breeches, tunic, mask, and boots, and with his shoulders slumped, left the chamber for his secret destination.

Within a few minutes he arrived, much to the guards' surprise. However, they did not question their master, they knew better than to do that, and silently opened the door for him, granting him access into the prison chamber.

Raoul's head was slumped against his left shoulder, breathing heavily as he tried to sleep, with his arms suspended overhead, and his body slumped against the wall. It seemed, however, that he too had a warrior's instincts, for the second Erik took one step into the tower, he awoke with a start.

Raoul's eyes widened slightly, before narrowing as he took in the sight of his old friend. "Well, well, well…I must be a lucky fellow, if the King's favorite knight has chosen to come and see me before dawn," he muttered, before turning his head and spitting on the ground. "Is today my lucky day, then? Am I to be whisked away to more…" he looked around the tower, before focusing his eyes on Erik's masked face. "_Comfortable_ surroundings?"

Erik didn't speak, he simply gazed at the once handsome, now bruised man who had no weapons, other than wit and sarcasm to use upon his enemies. In a way, Erik preferred it. He hated men who blubbered and begged, breaking down into tears while pleading for mercy. Raoul was like him, in that sense; he would respond the same way.

"Or perhaps you have returned to continue your threats from earlier," Raoul spat. "To never insult or threaten your wife, or any of your precious offspring?"

Once again, Erik remained silent.

"Oh I see…" Raoul muttered. "You're going to give me the silent treatment, is that it? Just as you did earlier this afternoon, after you sent your sweet little wife away, and after you snarled in my face? You're just going to stand there as you did before, and try to intimidate me with those eyes of yours? Is that your plan?"

Nothing.

"SPEAK, DAMN IT!" Raoul shouted, his patience and coolness gone. "OR AT THE VERY LEAST, TELL ME WITH A NOD OR A GESTURE THAT I AM BOUND FOR THE PALACE!"

The silence in that moment was deafening. Raoul's chest rose and fell with every anxious breath, as he stared into Erik's hard, gold stare.

"We were good friends once, you and I…"

Raoul's body sagged from the tension, but his face contorted into one of absolute confusion. "W-w-what?"

"I trusted you with my life, Raoul. I told you everything, all my secrets, because I trusted you, I knew you would not betray me…"

The confusion on Raoul's face at Erik's words melted into a look of anger. "Oh I see; trying to make me feel guilty and make yourself look like a bloody saint because you never once disobeyed an order, or went against your damn code of honor?"

"No," Erik murmured, leaning back against a wall opposite of Sir Raoul. "I don't take joy in doing this, any of this. This isn't easy—"

"OH!" Raoul's rebuttal echoed throughout the tower. "Oh forgive me, my lord, for not making it easy for you," he cynically growled. "How selfish of me, how unkind of me to not put you before my actions, and to dare think of how it would later effect you—"

"DAMN IT MAN, I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU DEAD!"

Erik's roar filled the entire tower and beyond, causing several birds who were nesting on Winterbourne's roofs to cry out in alarm. The sound resonated long after the words had escaped his throat, and the two men stared at one another, Sir Erik's chest rising and falling from his roar, his golden eyes glaring into Sir Raoul's, who was staring at him, his face calm and void of emotion…save for his eyes, which held some surprise.

"Funny…" Raoul whispered, breaking the silence. "Several days ago you seemed quite eager to see me dead."

"You were threatening my wife and trying to kill me," Erik growled. "Forgive me for defending myself," he spat.

Raoul gazed at him suspiciously, before lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes. "Ah, I should have known," he murmured. "_She's_ put you up to this, hasn't she? Your little noble-hearted wife—"

"_She_ didn't put me up to anything," Erik growled, taking a step towards Raoul, his jaw set and his voice low. "And you leave her out of this."

Raoul couldn't help but give a smile of satisfaction, knowing he had found a sore spot in his enemy. "Amazing…" he whispered, as realization fell across him. "The man who vowed to never trust his heart with another woman…has fallen in love with his own wife!"

Erik simply folded his arms across his chest while Raoul laughed. "I fail to see the humor."

Raoul didn't speak until his laughter had finally subsided. "It's…it's…it's not humor…" he gasped, managing to control his laughter. There was something mad and hysterical about it, Erik noted. "N-n-not humor at…at you, or your situation," Raoul went on. "More at mine, actually."

Erik lifted his visible brow at the other man's words. "Your situation?"

"Aye," Raoul sighed, before taking a deep breath. "You married Elizabeth because I prompted you to…but you had no love in your heart for her. Yet when I begged you to release her because _I_ loved her…you refused. But now…you've gotten married again, for the same reasons you married Elizabeth…only this time, you _do_ hold love for your wife…" Raoul's tone began to change. The mad humor, which had filled his voice, was giving way to cold bitterness. "The very happiness you denied both me and Elizabeth…you've found for yourself. Touché, Erik, touché."

"Raoul—"

"Did you know that I didn't learn she had been exiled, like myself, until nearly a year after you had the King banish me from the land?"

"I didn't exile her, she ran away, I—"

"It _was_ exile, Erik," Raoul snarled. "You may not have _officially_ sought it out as you did with me, but you and I both know that if she returned, she would have faced the Black Knight's wrath, and we both know of your reputation," he spat. "I was actually forming an army against you, did you know that?"

Erik was shocked by this news. He had often wondered if Raoul were plotting revenge, but he never had once imagined the level at which Raoul would plan.

"I did," Raoul confirmed once more. "That first year in exile, I was training men to invade the shores beneath Winterbourne, to kill you and rescue Elizabeth. But then I learn, as I am preparing for battle…that the Black Knight is no longer at Winterbourne, but has gone away to war. How convenient, I think. I will see that he is murdered on the battlefield, and be free to rescue my beloved while he is away! But as I make ready to storm the castle walls…I learn that Elizabeth is nowhere to be found…but in her place are two screaming girls, both with her golden hair and emerald eyes…and then I learn, by disguising myself as a peasant and talking with several of your tenants, that Lady Elizabeth has been missing for nearly a year…and that the two little brats are your newest children. They say that they were left on your doorstep, like young Charles was, but I knew better. They had her eyes; they were Elizabeth's own! YOU RAPED HER! YOU CLAIMED TO NEVER WANT HER, BUT YOU TOOK HER TO SATISFY YOUR THIRST FOR VENGENCE AGAINST ME, AND SHE RAN AWAY TO ESCAPE YOUR TYRANNY, YOU VILE—"

"I _NEVER_ TOUCHED HER!" Erik roared, his hands gripping Raoul's shoulders and slamming the blonde knight against the tower wall. "I _never_ touched her," he repeated once more, his voice lower and calmer, and extremely clear.

"Liar," Raoul hissed. "You defiled her sweet flesh, and then you threw her out—"

"You are WRONG, Raoul," Erik growled. "Sarah and Sabrina are my daughters, whom I adopted as my own when they arrived late one Christmas night. I found them shivering in a glade of trees, practically frozen and starved to death. I took them in and claimed them as my own. And that is all."

Raoul struggled against Erik's firm grip. "You lie! They are Elizabeth's children! I know it, I—"

"They are _my_ children," Erik stated once more. "Just as Charles, Helena, and Jacob are my children. And they are Christine's children, too."

Raoul's struggles were dying away, and he gazed at Erik with hateful, tear-filled eyes. "No…" he groaned, shaking his head in agony. "It…it…it wasn't supposed to be like this! She was supposed to be mine! We loved each other, we were meant to be together! But despite everything, you always had the strength, the skill, and the King's favor, even though you were a bastard! You had the wealth, the fame, Winterbourne, and even after everything that happened, with The Jackal and with Beatrice, you still manage to get it all! You still found love, you still found a bride, and even though you ran away from it for years, you still have a family! YOU DIDN'T WANT ANY OF THOSE THINGS, BUT YOU GOT THEM ALL!" he shouted, tears rolling down his dirty face as he glared at Erik. "And that was all I wanted…but you wouldn't even listen to me…"

Erik released his old friend and stared at the man who, but a few minutes ago, had been cynically berating him, but was now sobbing in agony and defeat. "You're right, Raoul…" he whispered, which caused the blonde knight to lift his head and look at Erik with confusion. "I did you great wrong, both you and Elizabeth. I didn't love her, and while it may have wounded my pride and caused a scandal, the King would have been understanding, and the two of you would have been together and happy. So I don't blame you for the hate you have for me, because now I do know love, pure love, and if someone tried to take Christine away from me, I would hate them for the rest of my life and vow to seek vengeance upon them, just as you have done. I understand that now."

Raoul straightened his back and gazed into Sir Erik's golden eyes, his face pale and his heart beating rapidly as he listened to the masked knight's words.

"However…you are _not_ innocent, either. You betrayed me as your equal, your fellow soldier, and your friend. While she may have been willing, you still seduced Elizabeth, knowing that it was wrong, knowing that it could ultimately ruin her if anyone found out about the affair, not to mention your own name."

"I loved her! And she loved me! I—"

"Then you should have NOT relented in your pleads to me!" Erik growled.

"You wouldn't have listened! You weren't listening, you were being stubborn—"

"Yes, I was, but you have known me for a long time Raoul, you would have discovered a way to convince me as you often have done in arguments we have had in the past. You should have continued to pursue me in pleading your case, NOT giving in to the lust in your heart! It goes against the knight's code, and in the end, it is the lady that suffers! If you truly loved her as much as you claim to have, you should have thought about these things!"

Raoul was silent. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came out. Erik noticed a strange shadow pass before his eyes…was it possibly realization and shame?

"But the greatest betrayal was on the battlefield. I thank you for defending me from those villains, you fought bravely and well, but instead of fetching help as you tried to convince me you were doing…you ran away, not telling anyone what had happened, leaving me there to die, perhaps even hoping that I would die! After all, then you would be free to take Elizabeth for yourself, yes? But think of it Raoul; you defended me! I was grateful to you for that, and had you not run away, had you gotten the help I had needed then…do you think I would not have considered your plea? The marriage had not been consummated, it could have been annulled, and the King would have understood if I had explained the situation! _This all could have been prevented!"_

"Really, Erik?" Raoul challenged, anger filling his eyes, trying to cover the shadow that Sir Erik had seen earlier. "You really mean that, you really would have put aside your stubborn pride and given Elizabeth to me because I simply defended you?"

Erik sighed and looked down at the ground, before lifting his eyes once more to Raoul's. "We'll never know, will we?"

Raoul sucked in a breath, as if the words had stung him. In many ways, they had.

"I am guilty, yes, guilty of stubbornness, of allowing my pride to rule my head and heart, and clouding my friendship with you. But you are guilty of the same crime, old friend. You placed your own lust and stubborn pride ahead of our friendship, and actually wanted to see me dead. That is the deepest wound of all, Raoul. When a man wishes to see his friend die, so that he may claim something of his…I cannot think of anything more despicable."

Silence passed between them. Raoul was staring at the ground, his eyes not once lifting to meet those of Sir Erik's. Nothing was said, because nothing more really needed to be said. Without any word, Erik slowly walked towards the cell door, prepared to leave the other knight with his thoughts.

But just as Erik had reached the door, Raoul asked the very question that both men had been pondering for quite some time. "What are you going to do with me?"

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his back still turned on Sir Raoul. "At dawn, I will have the guards bring you down to the courtyard…" he opened his eyes and lifted his head, although he still did not turn around. "And that is when I will tell you of your fate."


	42. Turning of the Tide

_Hello_ "Tapestry"_ fans! Sorry for the long update, but for those of you who read my other stories and read my last update to_ "Erik, the 'Date Phantom'" _know that it has been extremely hectic at work these last few months, hence, sadly, the lack of updates. But I'm trying to catch up! And while I had hoped to finish this particular story before the end of summer, I think it's safe to say that I WILL have it done before Christmas--yay! But I do hope you enjoy this latest update, it is nice and long and full of action! And thanks again to all of you who have emailed and reviewed my stories, I appreciate your encouragement and feedback, truly. And therefore, without further ado..._

* * *

**Summary:** Erik comes to a decision on what to do with Sir Raoul...which sets the stage for many explosive events that will shake the lives of all at Winterbourne!

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Turning of the Tide_**

Christine awoke to discover that her husband was missing. She frowned and slowly rose from the bed, wrapping a robe around her naked form to keep out the early morning cold. In the distance, the faintest strand of gold could be seen just beneath the horizon. The sun would soon be up, beginning a new day, a day filled with visits to farmers and tenants, distributing Baron de Coleville's goods, as well as a day filled with the servants moving items from Sir Erik's chamber to her own. Christine could not help but blush and smile at this wonderful idea; if he had not suggested it, she would have spent all her nights with him, by his side here, and her pretty little chamber would soon become dusty and dirty from neglect. Christine never wanted to be parted from his side, ever again, and she was very happy that beginning tonight, she would never have to know what it was like to sleep in a bed without him.

However, her smile disappeared as she thought about what else the day would bring.

A decision was going to be made. Erik had not revealed this, but Christine knew it was true. The fate of Sir Raoul would be decided this morning; no doubt that was where Erik was, preparing Raoul for his journey to the King, the last journey the handsome knight would ever take…

With a heavy sigh, Christine splashed some water onto her face from a basin, and gazed out the window as the sun slowly began to peak over the horizon. She looked down into the courtyard and saw the tall, dark, lonely image of her husband, also gazing into the distance of the horizon; his mighty shoulders slumped, as if weighed down by a tremendous, and invisible, burden.

Erik stood in the silence of the early morning, paying no heed to the cold breeze that blew around him. His gaze was fixed on the tower that held Winterbourne's only prisoner. An hour had passed since his encounter with Raoul; he had spent the time walking along the cold sand of the beach below the castle, silently agonizing over his impending decision. And as he sensed the first rays of dawn, he quietly returned to the courtyard to await the arrival of his prisoner, to inform him of his chosen fate.

"I have made my decision…" Erik whispered to the cold morning, as he gently felt Christine's soft hands move around his waist. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she found him.

Christine leaned her cheek against his broad back and let out a soft sigh. "I know that whatever it is…it is the right decision," she murmured.

Erik took one of her tiny hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, before releasing it at the sound of the tower doors being opened. Christine also released her husband, and moved to his side to see two guards lead a weary and bruised Sir Raoul, into the early morning light. Christine took Erik's arm then, and squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, determined to stand by her husband's side and offer whatever support she could, as well as to proudly wear her title, as Lady von Desslar of Winterbourne.

She was prepared for Raoul's sarcasm, or some biting comment that she was sure to escape his lips. Yet, she was surprised to see the sadness in the once handsome knight's face. No doubt he was feeling sorry for himself…and yet, as she gazed upon him, Christine could not help but think that perhaps his sadness was not solely directed upon himself, but rather…it had a deeper connection of some kind…

An awkward moment of silence seemed to pass as the guards waited for their master's instructions on what to do with the prisoner. Erik's chest was swelled and his back was straight, yet Christine could feel his muscles trembling beneath her hand. His harsh, golden stare was locked on Raoul's dirty head, but the blonde knight kept his eyes downcast, and still, remained silent as he awaited the Black Knight's verdict.

"Raoul de Chagny…" Erik growled, low and deep, breaking the silence so suddenly that it caused everyone present to flinch, slightly. "You are a wanted man, accused of treachery, adultery, and violation of the King's law by stepping foot in this country. So long as you remain outside the realm, you are a free man, but by returning, you are at risk of being arrested and imprisoned for your crimes, which are seen as a mark of disloyalty to His Majesty, and therefore the sentence is death…" Erik paused, taking a deep breath, and Christine silently squeezed his arm, praying that somehow her meager touch could give him strength for what he was about to say. "You understand all this?" Erik asked, his eyes never leaving Raoul's lowered face. "You understand that you will be executed should you travel to the King's palace?"

Christine held her breath as Raoul slowly lifted his head, his hazel eyes locking with those of Sir Erik's, before silently murmuring, "Yes."

She waited, expecting him to say more, expecting him to throw some cutting remark, but nothing followed his simple response. He did not lower his head again, but the glimmer of hatred and pride that she expected to see in his eyes was gone; there was a dead look in them, a look that was clear that Sir Raoul had resigned himself to his fate, and…something else, something that seemed to resemble…regret?

"Very well," Erik replied, taking another deep breath and looking directly into the eyes of his guards. "Release him."

Everyone's eyes widened at the Black Knight's order and no one looked more surprised than Sir Raoul, whose face had gone completely white.

"R-r-r-release him, my lord?" one of the guards asked, looking very confused by this turn of events.

"Aye," Erik growled, his eyes never leaving Raoul's bewildered face. "I will not have your blood on my hands, Raoul. I will not allow another ghost to forever haunt me. I wronged you, this I can admit now, and I will always remember the years of friendship we once shared with fondness. Therefore, I will not see you dead, at least not by my hand…however, I will not see you living either, at least not here."

Raoul's eyes were like stone as they stared back into Sir Erik's. He was clenching his jaw, and the paleness of his face gave way to color, a horrid red color that could only be associated with pent up rage.

"You are free to go, Raoul, I release you," Erik ordered, his eyes locking with his guards once more, the look telling them to unlock the shackles around his wrists and ankles. Fear gripped Christine as she realized that Sir Erik did not have his sword; what was to stop Raoul from taking one of the guards' swords and using it against her husband!? Yet Erik seemed calm, and she could feel the tenseness of his muscles relax beneath her fingers. "I banish you, Raoul; I banish you from Winterbourne and in the name of His Majesty, from this land."

"You can't do this…" Raoul snarled, his tone cold and deep, causing icy shivers to run down Christine's spine.

"I can and I will," Erik growled, cocking one brow in the direction of his old friend, as if in challenge.

"Nay, I won't let you…" Raoul growled once more. He was still shackled, for that Christine was grateful, but the madness behind his eyes frightened her, especially for her husband!

"Try and stop me," Erik simply replied, folding his arms before his massive chest, making his already gigantic size look even larger.

"DAMN IT, ERIK!" Raoul shouted, his voice echoing around the courtyard. "I tried to have you killed, I left you to die, I stole your bride, I even attempted to ruin your present marriage!" his eyes fell upon Christine, and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the crazed look he gave her. "I am a villain! And you have succeeded in thwarting me, so send me to my doom! IT IS MY DESTINY!"

Christine gasped when Raoul practically launched himself at Sir Erik, however the shackles kept his hands clasped to his sides, and pathetically caused him to fall to the ground in a blubbering mess.

Everyone fell silent…as a strange sound filled the air. It took Christine a few moments to realize that the sound belonged to Sir Raoul; he was crying…

"You've won, damn it!" Raoul moaned through his tears, his entire body shaking there on the ground. "You've captured me, you've outsmarted me, and despite all that I have done to you, you still have found the one thing that I have always longed for…" he turned his head slightly and caught Christine's startled gaze. "You have happiness…with her; with your children…I see that now. You have peace…and I will never know that. So don't torture me, Erik…please, I beg you…send me to my fate, or kill me yourself! If you cannot do it, have one of your men do it, but don't do this to me…don't let me live with these demons!"

It seemed that the ghosts and demons that had been exorcised from Sir Erik…had sadly possessed Sir Raoul.

Erik closed his eyes and let out a weary sigh, before kneeling down beside the broken, blubbering man, and without a word, taking the keys that one of the guards was holding, and unlocking Raoul's shackles.

"My lord! Do you…do you think that is wise?"

Christine found herself agreeing with the guard, and bit her lip as she watched Sir Erik unlock first the manacles at Sir Raoul's feet, before moving to the ones that imprisoned Sir Raoul's wrists.

"You are free, my friend," Erik murmured, after removing the shackles. "Take your horse, you will find it saddled in the stables. Take your horse and leave this place and never return."

"Erik, don't…"

But Erik didn't listen to whatever Raoul was trying to say; he was already rising to his feet and handing the keys back to his guards. "See that he is given three days worth of food and water for his journey."

Raoul was incensed. He leapt to his feet, so quickly that it caused Christine to gasp with terror. "Erik!" she shrieked, afraid that Raoul was going to attack her husband, but instead of turning to fight, the Black Knight calmly turned his head to gaze at the broken man who was trembling before him. Raoul stood there, his eyes two slits filled with a cornucopia of emotions, his hands balled into two fists, his entire body trembling, looking as if it would launch itself at Sir Erik any minute. The guards had drawn their swords and were ready to defend their master, but Erik raised his hand to them, a silent order for the men to lower their weapons. His eyes did not leave Raoul's face.

"Go, Raoul," he whispered. "I pray that you will find peace; I believe you will, if you allow it."

"WHY!?" Raoul shouted, pounding his fists against his thighs. "Why are you doing this!? DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I HAVE BEEN SAYING!? I HAVE ACCEPTED MY FATE! I HAVE ACCEPTED THE TRUTH OF YOUR WORDS!" Christine gasped as Raoul reached out and gripped Sir Erik's shoulders, however it was not a move to attack, but rather one in desperate need of support. "Please…" he moaned, the dirt on his face being washed away from the tears that wet his cheeks. "I always wanted to be a knight…I loved everything that knights stood for, and now…I cannot live with myself at seeing what I have become! Please…give me a knight's execution, you owe me that much Erik…"

"Nay," Erik whispered, his hands gripping Raoul's shoulders and steadying the man before him. "I owe you your life. A life for a life, Raoul. You may have left me on that battlefield with every hope that I might die, but you did defend me, that I remember. And so I am letting you go, giving you the chance to live as well, but as you did to me, so I am leaving you in the hands of fate. If you leave this place and stay long enough for someone else to find you and turn you in, that is not my doing. If you leave this place and choose to take your life in some form, that is your doing, not mine. I am abandoning you to your own conscious Raoul, just as you abandoned me on that battlefield. But I am giving you the opportunity to live, just as you gave me. _That_ is what I owe you, old friend. And that is what I am doing."

Raoul stared at the masked face of his childhood friend. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Slowly, his trembling hands released Erik's shoulders, and likewise, Erik released Raoul's.

"Go in peace, my friend," Erik whispered. "Leave and never return."

Raoul lowered his head to the ground, no longer able to look at Sir Erik. Satisfied that there would be no more outbursts, Erik nodded his head to his guards, and immediately, one went to fetch the food and water rations he had ordered, while the other went to bring Winterbourne's former prisoner his horse.

"Come," Erik whispered, putting his arm around Christine's trembling shoulders. She was shaking from everything that she had witnessed, and a part of her still did not wish to turn her back on Sir Raoul, afraid that he may leap up and somehow attack her husband. But Erik's gentle touch urged her to turn and allow him to lead her back to the castle. She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye and was surprised to see that the tremendous burden she had witnessed upon him earlier seemed to have lifted. His shoulders were straight and upright, his head was held high, and the weariness that she had seen in his eyes seemed to have vanished now.

He had made his decision; and it had been the right one.

"MY LORD! MY LORD!"

Erik whirled around at Bernard's frantic shouts, and Christine felt fear seize her heart as her husband's steward rushed towards them, his face red and out of breath. In his hand, he held a small, rolled up piece of parchment, and by the look on his face, whatever the scroll had written on it, it was not good.

"Word…from…Valmour," Bernard managed to get out between gasps. "The…the spies…have…have learned…important news!"

Erik did not waste time; he took the scroll and immediately began reading it. Christine bit her lip and held fast to her husband's arm, wishing that she could read and learn what desperate news had come to Winterbourne.

"They found them…" Erik whispered, his eyes growing wider as he took in the news. "The ship…they've seen the ship…"

"Ship?" Christine asked, turning her head to Bernard, hoping that he could perhaps explain.

"Aye," Bernard groaned. "The very ship we had been sent to find nearly a month ago has finally emerged!"

Pirates. Christine remembered Sir Erik and his men rushing off to Valmour at the urgent call of the King to find the mysterious bandits who were reining terror on the tiny village of Valmour. However, despite the rumors and so-called sightings of dark ships and mysterious night visitors to the caves that lined the village's seashore, they had not been able to find any evidence of pirate activity…until now.

"The letter says that a mysterious cloaked stranger was seen coming in and out of the inn where our spies were staying. They followed this stranger one night…and saw the villain disappear near a dune, down by the beach. Within a few minutes…a dark ship with black sails emerges, like a monster from the depths of the sea itself!"

Christine trembled at Bernard's words, and looked up at her husband for confirmation. Sir Erik's jaw was clenched tightly, and his hands began to crumple the edges of the scroll. "That's not all of the news…" he growled.

"What? What else is there?"

To her surprise, Erik did not answer her question, but instead, turned on his heel and marched to the stables. Christine picked up her skirts and quickly followed him, her face growing more and more pale with worry. "Erik! Erik, what is it? What is wrong!?"

Bernard also followed, looking most grave. "Our spies also reported sighting your…well…"

Christine looked at Bernard with confused and wild eyes. "What? What did they see!?"

Bernard lifted his eyes to his master, who was almost finished with saddling his horse. "They saw…well, they saw _them_, milady."

"Them?" Christine's brow was creased with confusion, but a cold shiver was running down her spine.

"Aye," Erik growled, mounting his horse. "That son of a bitch and his gorgon of a sister!"

Christine didn't need any further information. "Philippe and Carlotta!?"

"Aye, milady," Bernard sighed. "Apparently, they too, were also spotted at the inn. It seems…they have been hiding there for weeks, now."

Philippe and Carlotta had been hiding in Valmour!? That would explain Carlotta's sudden appearance but a few days ago. Had they been hiding there since they mysteriously arrived that one evening? That had been weeks ago! Good God, what on earth were they plotting!?

"My lord! What in God's name do you think you're doing!?"

Christine was shaken from her fearful thoughts when she realized that Sir Erik was practically ready to bolt out of the stables.

"I'm going to kill that bastard," Erik snarled. "And I'll wring that harpy's neck too!"

"My lord, be rational—"

"OUT OF MY WAY!" Erik roared, ready to dig his heels into his horse's flanks, but Christine reached out and gripped the reigns, causing Erik to freeze his motions.

"Erik, you can't just ride into battle without so much as a plan!"

"Aye, Lady Christine is right," Bernard nodded his head. "Your anger is kindled so that you're not even thinking clearly! Look at yourself! You're not even wearing your armor…and where is your sword!?"

It was true, Erik was not dressed for battle, and he was fully ready to ride off and fight without even thinking of bringing a weapon. There had only been one other time when he had acted so foolishly in battle…and his hand lifted to touch the mask that covered those scars.

"Please Erik…" Christine begged. "I know your anger is great, I know how you despise Philippe and Carlotta, believe me, I feel the same…but think of what your spies have written! The pirates that plague Valmour; surely they are the greater villains to vanquish?"

"Aye," Bernard agreed. "Listen to her, my lord, and let me quickly assemble the men. We will be off within the hour, and will put an end to this villainy!"

Erik was trembling with rage, but he felt the anger slowly subside as he gazed upon his wife's worried and beautiful face. He wanted to kill those cowards for all the abuse and harm they had caused his innocent bride, but he knew that both she and Bernard were right. He wasn't thinking, he needed a plan, and those bastard pirates were the greater enemy. However, he would get his hands on Philippe and Carlotta de Coleville, and if he had his way, they would be joining those pirates on the King's execution block!

"Very well," Erik growled, dismounting his horse and striding past Bernard and Christine. "Assemble the men, but be quick! We will leave within half an hour."

"Aye, my lord," Bernard bowed, before quickly turning and hurrying to do just as his master ordered.

Christine quickly followed her husband, whose enormous steps seemed to be ten times larger than usual, as he crossed the courtyard. "If the children ask, tell them the truth, that their father has gone to capture some villains but I will be back very soon."

"You must be careful, Erik, please? Do not let your anger cloud—"

"I will not let my emotions get the better of me," he growled, trying to push his hatred for Philippe de Coleville out of his head, and focusing on the larger and even harder task ahead. "I swear, before the night is over, this will all come to an end!"

"What will come to an end?"

Erik and Christine froze…and slowly turned, surprised to see that the person who had spoken was…Sir Raoul?

"What in God's name are you still doing here!?" Erik demanded. "Go! Before I change my mind and see that you're dragged away to the King!"

Raoul ignored Erik's words and found himself matching the Black Knight's stride. "What's going on? I overheard Bernard shouting; something about pirates?"

"This doesn't concern you," Erik growled through clenched teeth. "You're banished, remember? Now leave!"

But instead of leaving, Raoul reached out and snatched the crumpled scroll that Sir Erik was still holding. "Pirates have been terrorizing Valmour!? For how long?"

Erik attempted to snatch the scroll back up, but Raoul sidestepped him, his eyes never once leaving the parchment. "Who the hell are Philippe and Carlotta de Coleville?"

"Give that back and be gone, damn it!" Erik all but roared, attempting once again to take back the scroll, but once again, Raoul was quicker, and able to move away before Erik could catch him.

"The Jackal!?"

Christine froze at Sir Raoul's astonished words. The villainous pirate who had been responsible for Sir Erik's wounds, the enemy who had collaborated with Beatrice, the man Sir Erik had killed…but whose ghost was somehow managing to haunt them still…

The man who Christine had, for some time now, believed to be none other than Sir Raoul de Chagny…

"The Jackal is dead; you killed him, and yet this note bears his seal!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Erik roared, successively retrieving the scroll and pushing Raoul away from him so hard, that the blonde knight practically stumbled backwards.

"So it's true…" Raoul whispered, his eyes locking with Christine's. Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as she gazed back into the wild eyes of Sir Erik's former friend. She still did not trust him, nor was she entirely convinced he was still not connected in someway to the resurrected pirate. "Your wife, Erik, was kind enough to inform me about the scoundrel's mysterious threats when she visited my tower the other day, but I didn't think it was possible…"

"It's NOT possible!" Erik snarled, before gripping Raoul by the collar of his tunic. "And you will leave this place now, or I will see that you are locked up once more, and left to starve!"

Raoul, however, did not seem overly concerned to Sir Erik's threats. "You think threatening my life will intimidate me into obeying you? Wasn't I begging you earlier to kill me?"

Erik pushed Raoul away from him, looking at the other knight in disgust. "Leave, Raoul. Leave now."

"Erik, let me join you and help bring an end to this madman! I must say, I'm curious to know who is pretending to be this old nemesis of yours, and it's been quite some time since I had the opportunity to run some villains through—"

Any further words were lost to the sound of Sir Erik's fist, making contact with Raoul's head, causing the blonde knight to fall backwards and land with a loud thud. "LEAVE NOW OR I WILL SHACKLE YOU MYSELF AND HAVE MY MEN TAKE YOU AWAY!" Without another word, Erik turned on his heel and stalked inside the castle, leaving a bewildered Sir Raoul lying on the ground.

Christine quickly followed her husband all the way back to his chamber, and watched with concerned eyes as he went about the task of putting on his armor. Christine found herself remembering the first time she saw him, standing in front of her in Baron de Coleville's rose garden, looking like a formidable, dark giant, the setting sun glinting off his black armor. He was both terrifying and magnificent, and Christine truly believed that in that brief moment, when he had stolen her breath with his daunting appearance, he had also stolen her heart.

Erik's motions paused when he felt Christine's small hands come around his body to fasten Ghost Maker's sheath to his waist. She knew nothing about armor, but he could not help but smile as she carefully went about the task of checking his armor, making sure it was securely fastened to his body. A sigh escaped his lips as he felt her hands slip away, and he turned around to retrieve his sword, only to find his petite bride holding his black helmet. "You will be careful, won't you?"

Erik's eyes held hers, and he knelt down before her, allowing her to place the helmet upon his head. Christine did so, summoning her courage, forcing herself not to cry, although she could not help but feel anxious. No doubt this was what it would always feel like, for the wife of a knight, especially a warrior like Sir Erik.

"I promise, little one," Erik vowed, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingers, before slowly rising to his feet, his hands gently taking hold of her shoulders. "I will return to you tonight, and hold you in you my arms. I still expect the servants to prepare our new chamber, for I wish to make love to you tonight, in our new bed."

Christine blushed deeply, but smiled at his sweet words, leaning up on the tips of her toes, wrapping her arms around his mighty shoulders, and entangling her fingers in his hair, as she urged his mouth to lower to hers. He held her tightly to his armored frame, and kissed her deeply, lifting her off the ground until her feet were dangling. She would never know fear, ever again. He would go to fight these pirates, but he would also capture Philippe de Coleville and make him pay for everything that he had done to her.

Tonight. Before this day was over, it was all going to end.

Christine whimpered her protest as she felt her husband lower her to the ground once more. She watched with tear filled eyes as he took his sword and placed it in his sheath, and clasped her hands tightly to her chest, as if in prayer; indeed, she was praying for his safe return, wishing it was now and not later.

"I wish I had something to give you," she whispered, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay. "Ladies always give their champions a token of some sort, but I have neither a pendent, nor handkerchief, nor even a flower to give you…"

"Nay," Erik whispered, gently touching her cheek. "The gift of your love is greater than all those things put together."

Christine smiled, despite the tears that were now trickling down her cheeks. She then turned on her heel and snatched up the tapestry that was hanging near the fireplace. Sir Erik watched with puzzled eyes as she rolled the fabric into a scroll and handed it to him. "Take it, please," she sniffled, pushing the rolled fabric against his chest.

"Christine, this was just returned to you after so many years, it's yours—"

"Yes, I know, and that is why I want you to have it," she interrupted, pushing the tapestry into his hands. "It is mine…it is the only thing that has ever truly been _mine_, and…please, I know it sounds silly, but…I want you to have it on your journey. I know that you cannot wear it or place it inside your tunic the way you could with a pendent or a handkerchief, but please…take it with you? Please?"

Erik searched her eyes, and in their blue depths he could see nothing but hope and pleading love. His heart swelled with love for her, and he took the tapestry from her offered hands, before leaning down and catching her lips in another kiss. "I will guard it closely…and keep it close to my heart…until I return it to your hands, tonight."

Christine smiled and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight, relishing the feel of his arms around her, wishing that neither one of them had to let the other go…

But sadly, she knew that he must. And with a heavy heart, she watched as he slowly backed out the chamber, before turning on his heel and disappearing out the castle. Her legs staggered down into the great hall, and she watched from its doorway as Sir Erik mounted his horse, his other men gathering around him, and listened as he roared his orders. The men gave a mighty shout, and with a cry from Sir Erik's stallion, the beast led the way as the men thundered out of the courtyard, and down the road that would lead them all to Valmour.

Bernard and several other men were given the order to remain, and watch over Sir Erik's family, as well as all of Winterbourne. Christine felt her heart sink as the sound of horses could no longer be heard. Bernard noticed his mistress standing in the doorway, leaning against it for support, her eyes still locked with the distant road beyond the castle gates. "Fear not, milady. Sir Erik will return to us soon; he is a fierce warrior, and a clever strategist. He will thwart those villains and be back to us in time for supper."

Christine forced a smile, wanting to desperately believe in Bernard's words. But a horrible feeling settled upon her, a feeling that she could not shake.

Something was wrong…

And that was when she realized…Sir Raoul was gone.

* * *

Sir Erik and his men thundered away from Winterbourne as one giant army, however, once they were a mile away from the castle, Sir Erik stopped his men, and had them split into four groups. Each group would enter Valmour from a different angle, more or less surrounding the entire village. He would lead a group of men down to the coastline, and try to overthrow the enemy there. According to the scroll, a large group of men from the pirate ship were seen drinking and dancing around the caves where they were hiding their stolen loot. It was still early, and hopefully they would be so hung over from their late night celebration, that he and his own men could take them by surprise. There was still the problem of dealing with the ship, but he would worry about that later. He was determined to end this charade with this prankster who found it amusing by putting on the guise of The Jackal.

"My lord!" shouted one of his men, who was desperately trying to keep his horse at the same stride as Sir Erik's. "Are we to meet with Peter and Michael? Did the letter say anything about meeting them?"

Peter and Michael were the two spies that had been left in Valmour, the authors of his recent note. Sir Erik's brow furrowed at the man's question. Peter and Michael said nothing about meeting them at any particular place, let alone providing strategies on the best places to attack. As his spies, Peter and Michael always included battle suggestions for their master. Why was this letter different? Why—

"MY LORD!"

Erik tugged on the reigns of his horse as he heard his name being shouted from behind. The rest of the men stopped and turned as Sir Erik led his horse to the man who had called him, a soldier who was leading a wagon with battle supplies. "What the devil is the matter?!" he growled, annoyed that they were being stopped. He wanted to deal with this right away so he could deal with Philippe and Carlotta even sooner.

"We have a stowaway, my lord," grumbled the soldier, who leapt off the wagon, and without any warning, threw back the leather hide that was covering the supplies…to reveal a sheepish and surprised looking boy, who was still rolled into a tight ball. "I heard a sneeze."

"Jacob!?"

The boy lifted his dark head and bit his lip. "H-h-hello, Father."

Erik threw his eyes to the heavens and muttered a curse, before glaring back down at the boy. "WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!?"

Jacob immediately leapt to his feet and squared his shoulders, adopting a similar stance to that of the Black Knight. "You broke your promise to me, Father."

Erik could not believe he was hearing this. He could not believe that he was actually standing there, amongst his own men, and having an argument with his son who wasn't supposed to be there! "Promise!?" he growled, forgetting about all those around them and only focusing on the boy before him. He was furious that Jacob had done this! Did the boy not realize the danger he had placed himself in!?

"Aye," Jacob bravely answered, lifting his chin. "You promised that you would treat me like a man, not a child. And you promised that you would prove that to me…by training me in the ways of a knight and taking me with you on your quests."

Erik groaned and ran his hand over his masked face. Was this truly happening? How he longed to wake any moment beside Christine and realize this was all some horrible dream. "This is no quest, Jacob," he growled, low and deep. "Do you have any understanding on what I am about to do?"

"You are the Black Knight," Jacob calmly replied. "You are going to deliver justice to those in need."

Erik was momentarily stunned by his son's response. He never thought of himself as a harbinger of justice! He opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped himself as he gazed into Jacob's golden eyes, eyes so similar to his own that it frightened him sometimes.

The boy believed this, truly. Once upon a time, Erik swore Jacob despised him, hated him even, but now, as he looked upon his son, he could see the young man that he was going to one day become, a man who greatly respected his father, a man who wanted to be like him, who truly believed in a knight's code of honor, and in a knight's mission to protect others and serve in the name of justice.

Jacob was wiser than any counselor the King possessed; and he was only eleven.

"It's a dangerous mission, the one my men and I are taking," Sir Erik softly explained, surprising many of the people around him, including Jacob, who expected him to roar with anger and frustration at his son's disobedience. "There are pirates terrorizing the citizens of Valmour, and my spies have recently learned valuable information on their whereabouts."

Jacob's face lit up, and a smile began to slowly spread across his young, dark features. "What can I do, Father?"

"You," Erik smiled, "will ride with me, until we near the village. You will keep your eyes open and be like a hawk, soaring above land in search of prey. You will scan the horizon in search of anything that looks or seems unusual. When we approach Valmour, you will climb into the wagon and hide, for I don't want those villains to know that you are present, BUT—" Erik quickly intervened when he noticed Jacob's face fall once his father mentioned him having to hide in the wagon. "I will depend upon you, my son, by preparing our weapon supplies as you hide, as well as continuing to spy from the confines of the wagon…understood?"

Jacob's face lit up once more, and he nodded his head while wearing a proud smile. Erik also smiled and placed his hand upon the boy's shoulders and squeezed them affectionately. Without another word, Jacob climbed onto his father's horse, and held fast to his father's waist as Sir Erik dug his heels into the beast's flanks, and spurred the men onward towards their destination.

* * *

Helena giggled, a large blush covering her cheeks as she watched the servants carry several pieces of furniture from her father's bedchamber into Lady Christine's. This was a sure sign that everything was well between her father and her new mother; one must love another if they wish to live in the same room with them!

"What will become of Papa's chamber?" Charles asked, looking up at Christine who was helping Anne with directing where certain pieces should go.

"He will still use his chamber as a place to study and counsel the King's messages," Christine explained, as she nodded with approval at the placement of a large, wooden cabinet that several of the servants had brought in.

"But he and Mama will sleep in the same room," Helena giggled, causing a huge blush to cover Christine's face. "That's what people in love do, they sleep in the same room," she frowned then as she realized what she had just said. "Mama, where will Papa's bed go? I don't think there's room for it to fit in here. How will he be able to share a room with you if he doesn't have his own bed?"

Christine lifted her eyes to the heavens and thanked God for not having to explain _that_ just yet to her daughter. "We'll arrange something, my dear," she mumbled under her breath, feeling color flood her face as several servants who had overheard were also giggling and blushing. "Why don't you two join your sisters and Jacob? Perhaps Karl and Luc are playing outside?"

Helena immediately blushed at the mention of Karl, Bernard and Ophelia's eldest son. Charles couldn't help but point a finger and laugh, which resulted in a harsh pinch from his sister. "Sarah and Sabrina are playing in the nursery, and I have no idea where Jacob is," Helena muttered, while Charles rubbed his arm and glared at her.

Christine frowned at this; she hadn't seen Jacob all morning either, but assumed he was out in the stables, practicing with Bernard on his sword fighting skills as he normally did each morning.

"Mama, when will Papa be home again?"

Christine looked down at Charles and placed her hands on the children's shoulders, leading them out of the chamber and quietly leaving Anne and the servants to their task. "He received a message early this morning from Valmour, and he simply needs to investigate something, but he will be back tonight." There was no point in causing great worry in telling them exactly what he was traveling to Valmour for; besides, perhaps she could convince herself that everything would be alright, and shake this awful feeling from her.

"Will he be back in time to say goodnight to us?" Charles asked, looking very hopeful.

Christine forced a smile and nodded her head. "I don't think your father will miss that for the world."

Charles smiled, but Helena was pouting. "Of all the dumb luck," she muttered. "He was going to travel with us to the farms today! So that we could distribute all those goods!"

Christine sighed and nodded her head. "I know, but we can still do that, all of you and myself. I don't think your father would wish for us to delay because of him."

"It won't be the same," Helena grumbled, kicking the wall with her foot.

Just then, Ophelia and her two sons came around the corner, each smiling upon finding Christine, Helena, and Charles. Helena also smiled, especially at Karl, but immediately felt heat rise to her cheeks, and tried to put on a sour expression.

"I heard the wonderful news," Ophelia explained, her eyes drifting towards the doorway to Christine's chamber.

Christine blushed deeply, and then turned to the children, encouraging the four of them to find Jacob and the twins and take them out to the courtyard and play. The four agreed, although Helena was still trying very hard to not smile in Karl's direction, which only resulted in further teasing from her younger brother. As soon as the children disappeared, so to did Ophelia's smile. "I confess this is _not_ the reason I came to find you, although I am happy with this news."

Christine blushed, but bowed her head in thankfulness. She had a good feeling as to why Ophelia sought her out. "I'm so worried…"

Ophelia quickly stepped forward and embraced her friend. "It will be alright, Sir Erik is a fine warrior, and I'm sure that once those villains catch sight of him and all his men, they will either retreat in fear or surrender then and there."

Christine wanted to believe Ophelia's words, but that horrible feeling that had been haunting her since his departure would not back down.

"Bernard also told me about Sir Raoul; he learned from the tower guards that Sir Erik released him this morning!"

"Yes," Christine sighed, wrapping her arms around herself and turning her gaze towards a window. In the distance, storm clouds could be seen, black and ominous, gathering in the east, and blowing towards Winterbourne…

"Do you think what Sir Erik did was wise?" Ophelia whispered, biting her lip nervously. "I know very little about the man, other that he once was a great friend to Sir Erik, but…" she stopped speaking, realizing that what she was saying was doing very little to calm her friend down and keep her fears at bay. "I'm sure Sir Erik knew what he was doing, he is not a fool, after all."

Christine nodded her head in agreement, although the worried frown that covered her face did not lift. "He made the right decision, this I know…" she whispered, her eyes still focused on the incoming storm. "I understand his reasons and I trust them…I just don't entirely trust Sir Raoul."

Ophelia looked around them to make sure no one was within earshot, before leaning close and whispering, "do you still believe Sir Raoul to be behind the mysterious letters penned by The Jackal?"

Christine lifted her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself as she allowed all her suspicions and thoughts to sink in. How could Sir Raoul be The Jackal? The note from Sir Erik's spies informed him about The Jackal's boat, and yet Sir Raoul was locked up here all along!

Unless…unless Sir Raoul was not working alone. Perhaps he had hired pirates to work for him, to terrorize the countryside and extract his revenge on the land who banished him and the man responsible for that order. After all, from what she remembered Bernard telling her about the letter, there was no sighting of the man known as The Jackal, only a ship that resembled his and carried his symbol. Good Lord, what if this was all a trap! What if Sir Raoul had arranged for this, trusting that Sir Erik would ultimately release him, not only giving him freedom, but an opportunity to join his men and ambush her husband! After all, Raoul was missing when Erik and his men left Winterbourne…

Christine didn't know what to think or believe anymore. For so long she was sure it was Sir Raoul, but recently she began to doubt her theory. Yet now, it all made sense that it very well COULD be him! After all, who else knew so much about Sir Erik's history with the villain? And what about the scroll that had been discovered in the twins' bedchamber!? Was he lying? Did Sir Raoul know that he was the one responsible for Elizabeth's pregnancy? So many thoughts were coursing through her mind, so many possibilities to this horrible mystery. Oh God in heaven, what if it were true!? What if Sir Erik was heading straight into a trap!?

"We must warn him," she whispered, somewhat frantically.

Ophelia's brow furrowed with confusion. "Warn him? You mean Sir Erik? Warn him about what?"

"It's a trap…" Christine whispered, her face paling by the second. "I know it is…it's all a trap! Where's Bernard? I must speak with him at once!"

"He was at the gates last I saw, but…Christine? Christine! Where are you going!? What do you mean about a trap!?"

Christine was already in the great hall and soaring through the doorway as Ophelia's questions were echoing the walls of the castle. Just as she had said, Bernard was talking with the guards near Winterbourne's gates. Christine flew to his side, gasping and gripping his arm tightly, as her questions poured forth.

"The note! Who delivered it!?" she gasped. "Who gave it to you!? When did it arrive!?"

Bernard's face twisted to one of worry as he looked upon his frantic mistress. "Calm yourself, my lady, at least till you can catch your breath—"

"THERE'S NO TIME!" Christine shouted. "PLEASE, just answer my question! Who delivered that message!?"

"A lad…from Valmour," Bernard explained, although the worried look for his mistress began to change into a look of comprehension…and worry…for his master. "A stable lad, from the inn where our spies are staying…"

This was not good. Sir Erik had taken the note with him, but she prayed that Bernard remembered everything it entailed. "Please…what did the note say _exactly?_ Can you remember?"

Bernard's brow creased with worry as he recollected the message. "The spies had identified the ship…they saw men leave the ship and come ashore, to the caves that run along the beach, just outside of Valmour…" realization suddenly dawned on Sir Erik's steward. "Peter and Michael…our spies," he explained. "I just realized…they were very specific on where the villains could be found, but they mentioned nothing about…about where _they_ could be found, and they always give a location as to where they will meet Erik!"

"It's a trap," Christine gasped, her greatest horrors coming true. "I know it is! The note was written by someone else who knows of Sir Erik's spies and there will be an ambush upon him and his men!"

Bernard's face paled at Christine's words. She could tell by the look in his wide eyes that he believed her, and that he knew her words to be true. Without a word, he ran from the gates towards the stables, and mounted the closest horse there. "Bernard!? BERNARD!?" Ophelia shouted, finally emerging from the castle and seeing her husband leave the stables. "What is going on!? Where are you going!?"

"I must warn them!" Bernard thundered. "Her ladyship is right, it's a trap! Sir Erik and his men are headed straight into a trap!"

Ophelia paled. "But how will you reach them in time!? They left hours ago!"

"Erik will have his men slow down upon approaching the village, he will not want to cause a scene or give anything away. It may be my only chance at catching up with them! I MUST GO!" and without another word, he dug his heels into the animal and two thundered past the gates, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Christine's hands were clasped against her chest, lifting prayers up to heaven that Bernard's horse would not tire and make it in time to stop Sir Erik and his men before they reached the trap that surely waited for them.

"Mama!" Helena shouted, running to Christine's side along with her younger siblings and Ophelia's sons. "Mama, what's going on!? What's happening!?"

Christine took a deep breath and looked down at her children, but her brow furrowed even more…and her heart began to plummet when she realized that one child was missing…

"Where's your brother?" she whispered, dread filling her heart with every beat. "Where's Jacob?"

"I don't know!" Helena wailed, looking both frightened and desperate to know what was going on. "I can't find him! He wasn't with Sarah or Sabrina in the nursery, and no one has seen him in the stables at all this morning! He didn't even come to the kitchens for breakfast!"

"Oh God have mercy…" Ophelia gasped, as if reading Christine's mind.

Everyone's fears were confirmed when Karl looked at his mother and Lady Christine with sad and worried realization. "I saw him this morning…I was looking out our window when Sir Erik and his men were preparing to leave. He went into the stables…but he never emerged."

* * *

Storm clouds were gathering, but Erik paid them no heed. It was proper, in a sense, as they would help his men sneak into Valmour under a cover of rain and shadow. They were very close now; a mile back Erik had ordered his men to stop their horses, and they continued the rest of their journey at a slow trot. Jacob said he hadn't noticed anything unusual, and he was now hiding once more, beneath the leather cover in the weapons wagon. Erik lifted his hand as he caught sight of the dunes, just north of the village. With silent gestures, he ordered his men to dismount; they would continue the rest of their way on foot…

* * *

"COME ON!" Bernard shouted to his horse, digging his heels in deeper as the beast sped forward at a thunderous pace. Good God, how could he be so blind! He had relayed messages from the spies to Sir Erik in the past, and he knew exactly how each man wrote. That message was NOTHING like Peter or Michael! And because of his stupidity, he had sent his master and his friend, as well as all his other friends, into the jaws of death! He only prayed that he could reach them in time…

* * *

"I've checked all the secret passages!" Helena groaned. "I couldn't find him in any of them!"

"What about the cave down by the beach?" Christine asked, trying to desperately remain calm for the sake of her children, but finding it extremely difficult.

"Karl and Luc traveled down there, but found nothing," Ophelia sighed, looking just as worried as her friend, but doing a far better job and remaining calm.

"He's not in the kitchens, or any of the storage cupboards!" Anne reported. "And I have servants searching high and low, all around the castle."

"What about Sir Erik's chamber?" Christine desperately suggested. "Or the secret passage that exits from there!? Has anyone checked that!?"

"Mama, I told you, I checked the passages," Helena wailed.

"I know, but did you check that one!?" Christine regretted shouting at the girl, especially when she noticed the frightened tears that stung the child's eyes. She quickly wrapped her arms around the girl and held her tightly. "It is possible for him to move from one passage to another without any of us knowing. Let's check that one just in case. And we should check the stables again, too! OH! What about the rose garden? Has anyone checked there?"

"My dear…" Christine lifted her head and saw Antoinette silently approach, almost as if she were floating off the ground. "Do not fret, my dear," the woman softly murmured. "The boy is fine, trust me."

But Christine was not so easily convinced. "He's missing! Sir Erik entrusted me with the care of his—of OUR children, and I must find him!"

"Christine…" Ophelia murmured, knowing that this would greatly distress her friend, but she knew that it needed to be said, and possibly accepted. "I do not think Jacob is here…in the castle or on the grounds. I think…I think he has joined Sir Erik."

"NO!" Christine shouted, not wanting to even think such a thing. Her husband was already heading towards danger; was her son also heading in the same direction!? "We MUST keep looking! We have to! We…we…" she couldn't stop the sobs that were clogging her throat. She was so afraid…

"Hush, it will be alright," Antoinette whispered, moving forward and wrapping her arms around Christine. "Do not fear, my dear, it will all be alright, have faith, child, have faith…"

Helena bit her lip as she watched her mother cry. She too was very worried and afraid for her father and her brother. And she wanted to be brave for her mother, to help her feel better. Without a word, she quickly turned on her heel and dashed up the steps towards her father's chamber. She knew there was a passage that connected that room with the tunnels that ran throughout the castle, but she had never thought to check it. Perhaps Christine was right? Maybe Jacob really was there! It wouldn't hurt to look, would it?

* * *

Valmour! Bernard could see it in the distance. He was nearly there! No doubt as soon as the village could be seen, Sir Erik would have ordered his men to stop riding at a fast speed. There was still a chance, still an opportunity to catch up and give the warning!

* * *

Erik was crawling on his belly, his men just behind him, each of them making their way through the thick grass that surrounded the beach and its mighty cliffs. The ship was nowhere to be seen, but he expected that. No ship that had villainous purposes would want to be seen during the day, even if the sky was dark due to a storm.

The winds had picked up, and it was just beginning to rain. Overhead, thunder growled and rumbled, and in the distance, lightning could be seen, crashing down towards earth. The perfect atmosphere for such an event…

"I see several bodies, my lord!" hissed one of his soldiers. "Lying in the mouth of the cave, just like the message said! No doubt they've all passed out from drinking!"

"Let us hope so," Erik growled, although a part of him was looking for a fight. Hopefully he could still have that with Philippe de Coleville.

They continued to crawl, slowly and carefully. Several of his men were at the top of the cliff. He looked up towards them, and waited for a signal to let him know that it was safe for his group to invade the beach.

Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, a feeling…a negative feeling…began prickling his mind, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

No doubt this was being caused by the adrenaline of the upcoming ambush that he would be leading at any second.

Yet still…something didn't seem…right…

"My lord!" hissed another soldier. "They're giving the signal! The signal to invade!"

Erik pushed these thoughts aside and lifted his sword. A loud roar erupted the air, and all his men joined in roaring, as they rose to their feet and thundered down onto the beach, their weapons ready to face any enemy that should try to cross their path!

"ERIK! ERIK! STOP! STOP!"

Despite the thunderous roars of his men, and even his own voice, Erik heard someone shout his name.

"IT'S A TRAP! STOP! DON'T GO IN THERE! ERIK STOP!"

Erik knew that voice! Bernard!? He stopped and turned towards the cliffs, seeing Bernard and his horse come to a urgent stop, and the man looking pale and frightened as he waved his arms overhead. And then, the adrenaline he had been feeling gave way to cold, dark fear, and the negative feeling kindled into wildfire, as the questions his men had asked him miles back began haunting his brain.

The note was not like past notes written by his spies! And how on earth did his spies know about Philippe and Carlotta de Coleville!? They knew nothing about the two siblings, or their connection to Christine!

It was a trap.

Whoever wrote that note gave specific instructions on where to go, but nothing about battle strategies or how many men they would find! And the author of that letter knew that Erik would ride off into battle at the mere mention of the de Coleville brats!

It was a trap…an ambush! HE HAD BEEN DECEIVED!

"STOP!" he roared to his men. "HALT! HALT I SAY!"

But it was too late; several of them were already entering the cave with their swords drawn and ready for battle…

* * *

Helena entered her father's chamber softly and quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to herself, or wanting to startle Jacob if he were there.

The room looked so empty, now that half of her father's possessions had been moved, although she rolled her eyes at the sight of his bed. How was he going to sleep in Christine's chamber without his bed?

She would ask him that question later, right now she was determined to find her brother, or at the very least check the passage to see if he were there. She only hoped she remembered how to open it; it was a tricky passage, one that could only be opened from the inside of the castle by moving a special brick, one that was far too high for her to reach without climbing on top of something.

Rolling up her sleeves, she climbed a desk, and stood on the tips of her toes, as she reached for the brick that lay just over head…

"OH!" Helena gasped as the passage suddenly began to open! But she hadn't touched the brick! How on earth…?

"Jacob? Jacob, is that you?"

* * *

Nothing.

No pirates, no bandits, no army of mad men burst out of the cave.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

_Dead_ quiet.

Erik held his sword even tighter as he approached the mouth of the cave, a cold sweat dripping down his brow and beneath his mask as he drew closer and closer…

No screams from his men. No roars of attacks. Nothing, save for the sound of thunder that continued to roar overhead.

To his surprise, the men who had rushed ahead were not lying dead on the ground by villainous throat cutters hiding behind giant rocks. Nay, they were not lying on the ground at all! They were standing, and their swords were lowered…and they were looking down upon something…

That horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach grew more and more. Erik swallowed the lump in his throat as he approached, and his men parted, so that he could see what it was that they were looking at…

* * *

Antoinette froze.

Christine felt the woman, whose arms were providing her with comfort, go stiff as a board, and her skin became icy to the touch. She looked up at the woman, her eyes wide with fear as she saw the older woman's face go ghostly white.

"Where is Helena…?" she whispered.

Christine's face matched the same color, and she looked around, realizing that Helena was now missing as well!

"The child was just here!" Anne gasped, looking all around the room. "I saw her, she was just standing there—"

"Antoinette!?" Christine cried, as she watched the woman turn on her heel, and rush towards the stairs that would lead to Sir Erik's chamber.

Christine wasted no time; she picked up her skirts and raced after the woman, fear gripping her heart with every step.

* * *

"ERIK!"

Bernard pushed his way through the men who were hovering around the entrance of the cave. What was going on!? Why were they even standing there!? "Erik, what is it!? Didn't you hear me? It's a trap! It's—"

"Yes…" Erik growled, low and deep, his voice filled with cold hatred. "We were all fooled!"

Bernard's face was filled with confusion…but all the breath was robbed from his lungs as he looked down…and realized that lying just within the entrance of the cave were two, bloody, mutilated bodies.

Peter and Michael.

Sir Erik's spies.

"We were lured away from Winterbourne…" Erik hissed, turning on his heel and pushing his way through the crowd of men. "They wanted us to come here! And they wanted you, Bernard, to suspect it was a trap to leave Winterbourne unguarded!"

If there was any color left in Bernard's face…it was gone completely now.

"HURRY!" Erik shouted, not waiting for his men to catch up. "WE MUST RIDE LIKE THE WIND!"

* * *

"Jacob?" Helena murmured into the darkness of the mysterious passage. Someone had to have been inside, how else had it opened? "Jacob? If you're there, answer me! I promise I won't get you into trouble," she muttered, climbing down from the desk and poking her head just inside the passage. "Jacob?"

"I'm afraid not…" answered a mysterious voice.

Helena gasped and leapt back. Her eyes went even wider as from within the shadows of the passage…a figure slowly emerged, one dressed in black and wearing a hooded cloak.

"Hello, my pretty girl…"

Helena screamed as the figure reached for her.


	43. Resurrected Ghosts

_**Hey all!**_ Sorry again for the delays in updating, but it IS getting updated when I can, so I hope you are still enjoying this story, especially as it is winding down! (2 chapters to go!) Thanks to all who have been supportive, encouraging, and understanding. You're the best! And without further ado...

* * *

**Summary:** The trap has been set, but for far different prey. And old faces from the past return...

**Tapestry of Deceit**

**_Resurrected Ghosts_**

Sir Erik drove his heels into his horse's flanks, urging the beast to run faster, faster than it had ever run before. His own men were struggling to keep up, but Sir Erik paid no heed, his gaze was hardened and focus on one thing only:

Winterbourne.

Upon returning up the hill, Jacob, who had emerged from the wagon his father had told him to hide in, stood ready, holding a sword to his side, as if he were planning on going into battle. However, the boy's face paled when he saw the look in his father's eyes.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"We were fooled," Erik growled, deep and menacing, as he wasted no time in mounting his horse.

Jacob's brow creased with confusion, but a cold chill ran down his spine at his father's icy words. "Fooled? What do you mean? What about the pirates? The cave? The stolen treasure?"

"Your mother and your siblings are in danger!" Erik roared, thrusting his heels into the horse, causing the animal to rear up and give a cry to the storm covered sky. "We should never have left!"

Erik didn't turn back to look at his son, he only turned his horse towards Winterbourne and rode with great haste, not waiting for his men to catch up. Good God, how could he have been so blind!? Damn his foolishness! He had not been thinking, he simply heard the names of de Coleville's brats and immediately set out to Valmour, without _properly_ examining that scroll!

It was so obvious now that neither Peter or Michael had written it. It was so obvious now as to who it was written by, and his heart hammered in his chest as he imagined that bastard invading his home, threatening his family—

_If any of them are harmed, then God be merciful for I will_ not _be!_

The horse screamed and sped only faster as he dug his heels in harder, the rain from the storm lashing at his armor, the wind howling against him, as if trying to slow him down, but nothing, not even the devil himself, was going to slow him down now.

_Hold fast, Christine, hold fast! I'm coming!_

* * *

Christine could barely keep up with Antoinette. She raced after her, but it seemed as if God had given the older woman wings! However, Christine froze dead in place, and nearly stumbled when her ears were filled with the horrifying sound of Helena's scream. Oh God above! She gripped her skirts and raced towards the sound, realizing that it was coming from Sir Erik's bedchamber! "Helena!" Christine shouted. "Helena, I'm coming!" Antoinette had already disappeared into the chamber and Christine was close behind. "Helena!" she shouted again, needing to hear the girl's voice, needing to hear some sound of life! She pushed her way into the chamber, and froze in place.

Darkness. The chamber was incased with darkness. She could hear breathing, but she couldn't see a thing!

"Helena! Helena, it's me!"

Only breathing, but no answer.

Christine felt her blood turn to ice. Someone was in the room, that was for certain, but she had a terrifying feeling that it was not someone she knew…

"Antoinette?" Where was she? Christine had seen her enter the room! "Helena, answer me right now!"

"CHRISTINE!"

Helena's scream erupted the air, just giving Christine enough time to turn her body away from the oncoming attacker who had hidden themselves in the shadows behind the door.

Christine gasped and stumbled backwards as her attacker missed her, just barely. Lightning from the outside storm illuminated the room, and Christine swore her heart stopped when she looked up and took in the sight of a cloaked figure, standing above her, their arms raised over their head. Christine lifted her eyes to the figure's hands, and gasped as the lightning caught the glint off the attacker's dagger.

"NO!" Christine screamed, shooting her foot out and kicking the attacker in the stomach. The figure groaned in pain as they stumbled backwards, and Christine immediately scrambled away, her eyes searching the darkened room for Antoinette and her daughter.

"You filthy bitch!" the figure muttered, before quickly rising, gripping the dagger menacingly.

Christine stared at the figure, confusion hitting her as she listened to the villain's voice. However, she had little time to comprehend what she had heard, for the figure was already advancing upon her, the knife held high and ready to strike.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Helena shouted, rushing out from where she had hidden herself, holding what looked like a silver candlestick, and swinging it with all her might against the attacker's leg.

A howl of pain erupted the room as the figure doubled over, clutching at their leg from where Helena had struck them. Christine immediately scrambled to her feet and moved towards the young girl, but in the process tripped over something large and heavy.

And…breathing?

Christine quickly rose to her hands and knees and bit back a scream as lightning filled the room once more, revealing that the object in which Christine had tripped was in fact…Antoinette!

"She stabbed her!" Helena wailed. "When she entered the room, she came out from behind the door and stabbed her!"

Christine stared at the broken figure of Antoinette, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the sight of blood, flowing from the woman's back, causing the poor woman to struggle with her breathing.

And then something dawned upon Christine, something Helena had said.

_She?_

Christine lifted her eyes to the dark figure, which was straightening their body and glaring back at her from beneath the cloak.

The voice, the strange voice that she had heard.

It had belonged to a woman!

"I guess the cat's out of the bag…" the figure grumbled, before throwing the hood back and revealing a cascade of fiery red hair.

The exact color as Helena's…

No…it was not possible! It couldn't be _her_…could it?

Helena leapt to her feet and attempted to run in the direction of Christine, but the woman was faster, reaching out and grabbing the girl by the hair, causing Christine to cry out just as her daughter cried out in pain.

"MAMA!" the girl wailed, tears rolling down her face as she looked to Christine, her eyes pleading for her to help her.

"NO!" shouted the redheaded woman, who only yanked harder on Helena's hair. "_I_ am your mother! NEVER ADDRESS HER AS SUCH AGAIN!"

Christine felt anger fuel her veins, and she leapt to her feet, her eyes narrowed slits as she glared at the villain before her. "Get your hands off my daughter!"

"SHE'S NOT _YOUR_ DAUGHTER!" the woman screeched, before giving Helena's hair another cruel tug. "She's mine! She belongs to me! I conceived her, I birthed her, and she is from my flesh! MY BLOOD FLOWS IN HER VEINS!"

"And my love beats in her heart," Christine spat.

Helena gasped as she felt the blade of the dagger touch her throat. Beatrice's eyes never left Christine's. "I would rather see her dead…than in _your_ care!"

The woman was mad! She was willing to slaughter her own children! "Why are you doing this?" Christine asked, praying that someone from the great hall had heard Helena's screams, and would come running to Sir Erik's chamber any minute.

"When word reached my ears that Sir Erik had taken another bride, I had to see for myself! What sort of creature would willingly sacrifice herself before the beast's altar?"

Christine felt her eye twitch at Beatrice's cruel words. "He is not a beast."

"Really?" Beatrice cackled. "So it's true then. The impossible has happened! You are in love with him!"

Christine said nothing, she simply held the madwoman's gaze.

"I must say, I was surprised," Beatrice chuckled. "I mean, the girl who was to be his first wife was quite beautiful…if you like that sort of pale thing," she grumbled. "And of course, I was his great passion," she vainly purred. "And yet here you are, this plain brown thing, hardly worth gazing at—"

"She's beautiful!" Helena hissed, and without warning, slammed her foot down on Beatrice's boot, causing the woman to cry out in pain, and giving Helena enough time to run to her true mother. Christine snatched up the girl in her arms, and without looking back, ran towards the secret door, praying that they could escape the madwoman through the secret passages and find help.

However, the door was already open…and it was not unoccupied.

Christine slammed into the intruder's chest and gasped as she gazed up at a man's face…or what she could see of it. For the face was hidden behind a scarlet scarf, save for the eyes, which looked like two black pools from which nothing escaped.

"Ah, Lady von Desslar, I am so pleased to meet you at last..." the man greeted, his vice-like hands already holding fast to her shoulders. "Allow me to introduce myself; I'm the one they call…The Jackal."

* * *

Cold tears soaked Christine's tunic, but she said nothing, only cuddled the little bodies closer to her breast. The entire castle was in an uproar; servants had been captured and bound together, and the guards lay dead in pools of their own blood. One such body was just behind her, but Christine did her best to shield the children from the gory sight, as well as fight the nausea that threatened her own stomach.

The man with the scarlet scarf was barking orders to his men, while the woman dressed in the black cloak…Beatrice…stared back at her from the other side of the great hall, her blue eyes two narrow slits filled with fury and hatred.

Christine only tightened her hold on Helena, as the other children wept, clinging to their mother, moaning for their father.

_Oh Erik_, she softly prayed. _Hurry home to us!_

"Anything!?" demanded The Jackal to one of his men.

"Nothing, boss. We've searched high and low and have torn this place apart—"

"Don't lie to us," Beatrice grumbled, momentarily turning her gaze away from Christine and the children. "This castle is immense, you've barely begun your search."

"Aye," the man in the scarlet scarf growled. "And don't talk to me about tearing this place apart…" with that, he grabbed hold of an old wooden cabinet and threw it to the ground, causing the piece of furniture to shatter into a hundred pieces. "THAT is tearing the place apart!"

The other children whimpered and Christine tightened her hold, trying her hardest to not show fear, when in truth, she had never been so terrified.

The Jackal.

There he was, standing before her, in the flesh. The villainous pirate who never showed mercy, the man responsible for Sir Erik's scars…he was alive!

_But how can that be? Erik swore he killed him, he ran him through with his sword and he watched as his body fell over the cliff. Erik swears he saw the body, smashed and bloodied upon the stones below! How can he be standing here now? Surely it's not possible!_

"You look rather puzzled, milady," the pirate chuckled, his eyes falling upon Christine. A shiver of disgust coursed through her as she felt his eyes undress her.

"I am merely curious as to what it is you are looking for," she stated through clipped lips.

The man chuckled, before folding his arms across his chest. He was tall, but by no means broad or muscular the way Sir Erik was. His body was lithe, with a long torso and even longer legs. His clothes were brown leather, and he wore a black scarf atop his head and black gloves upon his hands. Truly, every part of his body was covered and encased in some sort of fabric…save for his eyes.

Dark, devilish eyes…just like Sir Erik described.

It was those eyes that had chilled her when she first ran into him. They looked eerily familiar, like something out of nightmare. He caught her by the shoulders and twisted her around, until she was facing the inside of Sir Erik's bedchamber. Beatrice was there, her dagger ready to slit Christine's throat, but The Jackal stopped her, telling the very agitated Beatrice that she must wait, at least until they got what they had come here for. This cryptic message continued to haunt Christine as he led her not through the passage, but down the steps towards the great hall! Was he mad? Surely he knew he would be captured! But it was not the same great hall that Christine had left only minutes before. In it's place, was a blood bath, with dead bodies, crying servants, and screaming children. Anne and Ophelia were huddled together, holding all the children tightly, as The Jackal's men roused servants out of the kitchens, the laundry rooms, the pantry, and any other room they could find, forcing them into the great hall, and binding them to one another with thick ropes. Some servants resisted, and those that did were killed immediately. All the guards were slaughtered, even those that threw down their weapons in surrender. It was terrifying, bone chilling chaos, and The Jackal was loving it.

Christine and Helena quickly joined Anne, Ophelia, and the other children, but The Jackal's men took Anne, and tied her up with the other servants. Ophelia sat only a few feet away, holding her own boys just as tightly as Christine held her children. Fear gripped Christine's heart when The Jackal ordered his men to begin searching for some mysterious item, and should they find any other servants, to feel free to slaughter them; he had enough prisoners. Robert and Meg and their baby were not in the room! They were still somewhere within the castle! _Oh God, please, be merciful!_

"News reached my ears but a few days ago that Sir Erik von Desslar brought back a large…shipment, shall we call it, of goods…goods that had been stolen by the Baron de Coleville."

Christine stared up at the madman, jolted back to the present by his words. "I find that ironic; a thief attempting to take the moral high ground."

The Jackal merely chuckled. "Oh my dear, I am not taking any sort of high ground. Nay, it is one item in particular that was once of the baron's household that holds specific interest to me."

Christine's brow furrowed. How was this man so acquainted with Pierre de Coleville?

"What is it that you seek?"

Beneath his scarlet mask, The Jackal smiled. "A map."

"A map?" Christine had not seen every single item that the servants had unloaded from the wagon that Sir Erik had brought back, but she did not recall any maps in the de Coleville's household. "A map of what, exactly?"

"A treasure," Beatrice informed, stalking towards Christine, her dagger lazily sliding up and down her thigh. "A treasure hidden somewhere in this—"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" The Jackal bellowed, glaring at Beatrice in disbelief and anger. Apparently he did not want Christine or anyone for that matter to know the whole story. He simply wanted this so-called map and whatever treasure it led to.

Charles, who was clinging to his mother, now felt anger kindle in his heart and rise in his throat. "Just wait till Papa gets back!" he shouted, attempting to lift his chin and sound brave, despite the fact that he was trembling. "You'll be sorry then!"

The Jackal eyed the young boy through narrowed eyes, and Christine's hold on Charles only tightened. "Is that so?" The Jackal asked, approaching the huddled family and crouching until he was at eye level with the boy. "You think your father will rescue you and stop me?"

Charles felt his insides go cold at the terrifying way the pirate stared at him, but he silently nodded his head, while feeling very grateful for his mother's protective touch.

The Jackal only chuckled, before rising to his feet and tousling the boy's hair. "Ah, youth. They are so easily led astray by dreams and falsehoods."

Christine couldn't stand it anymore, she couldn't stand this fear of the unknown, and frankly, she was tired of being made to feel like a prisoner in her own home. With newfound courage, she lifted her chin and spoke sternly to the pirate who had his back turned on her. "You're a coward!" she accused to his back. "You imprison servants and terrify children rather than face a band of warriors! You're a sniveling coward!"

Beatrice was the first to approach Christine, looking ready to backhand the girl, but The Jackal stopped her, much to her surprise. "You're going to let her speak to you like that!?"

The Jackal gripped Beatrice's wrist and glanced lazily at Christine. "Her words are the only weapon she has; they mean nothing to me, and they certainly aren't worth the reaction you were willing to give."

Beatrice glared at the pirate, before freeing her wrist from his iron hold. Her eyes then went back to Christine, narrowed and filled with hatred. Christine met the other woman's gaze, refusing to look away despite how intense Beatrice's stare was. This woman had made Sir Erik's life a living hell! Her seductions, lies, and ultimately her betrayal had nearly ruined him! He had given her his heart, he had believed himself in love with her, deeply, passionately…and she threw everything that he offered back into his face. Because of her, he had become cold, aloof, and some would even say heartless. Because of her, the world saw him as a monster.

Beatrice's narrowed eyes became tiny slits as she stared back at Christine. "What?" she demanded, her arms folding across her chest. While she would not admit it, it did unnerve her to have this woman stare at her so. "What, you ugly little toad? You wish to speak to me? Ask me a question?" a grin began to spread across her face, and her voice quickly grew haughty. "Are you curious to know how I survived my executioners? Where I have been all these years?" she purposefully thrust her breasts forward and tossed her head back, allowing her long, fiery red hair to glimmer in the candlelight. "Or are you feeling jealousy? Knowing that Sir Erik loved me first, knowing that you will never stir the same sort of passion in him the way I—"

"Nay," Christine interrupted, tilting her head just slightly as she gazed upon Beatrice. "I was actually feeling great pity for you."

Beatrice's haughty smile disappeared with those words. "Pity?" She spat the word as if a fly had just flown into her mouth.

Christine simply nodded her head. "You cling to the past because you think it gives you power, when in truth, you cling to it because you are lonely…and you can't understand how he was able to move on and offer his heart to another…while you are trapped with the agonizing weight of your ill decisions."

Beatrice was furious. "Agonizing weight?" she asked, through clipped lips, her hands balling into two tight fists.

"Aye," Christine whispered. "You broke his heart, so you will never know the kind of love that he once felt for you again. And you abandoned your children—"

Beatrice practically leapt at Christine, her claws bare and ready to gauge the girl's eyes out, but The Jackal was faster, and as he had before, caught hold of her, and held the woman away, despite her struggles and screams of anger.

"CALM YOURSELF OR I WILL HAVE YOU BOUND LIKE ONE OF THEM!" he shouted, cocking his head towards the cowering servants.

Anne shook her head as she watched the scene take place. "Hellish harpy," she muttered under her breath.

Beatrice finally managed to calm down, at least long enough for The Jackal to release her. However, as soon as she was free of his hands, she lurched forward, and without warning, snatched Helena away from Christine and the other children, dragging the screaming girl towards her.

"HELENA!" Christine shouted, rising to her feet and fully prepared to launch herself at Beatrice, but this time it was she who was stopped, by one of The Jackal's men who came up from behind her and grabbed hold of her waist. "HELENA!" Christine continued to struggle, despite the oppressive hold of her captor.

"MAMA!" Helena screamed, giant tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggled against the imprisoning arms of Beatrice.

"_I_ AM YOUR MOTHER!" Beatrice shouted, shaking the girl as if that would somehow make her understand and obey. "NOT HER, _ME_! YOU WILL CALL ME 'MOTHER', DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

"PLEASE!" Christine desperately cried, looking to The Jackal, as if somehow he would show mercy upon them. "PLEASE, SHE'S ONLY A CHILD!"

"YOU PROMISED ME!" Beatrice shouted, turning her wild blue eyes upon the pirate. "YOU PROMISED ME THEY WOULD BE MINE!"

Christine's face paled at the madwoman's words. Good God, was she intending on taking Jacob and Helena away?

Jacob.

The boy was still missing, and Christine knew now that she had to come to the conclusion that the boy had run away to be with his father. Earlier she was terrified at the idea, but now she was praying that it was true, that Jacob was in Sir Erik's presence. _Oh Erik, please hurry home!_

It seemed at this moment Beatrice had made the same discovery. "Where's MY son!?" she demanded, her hold on Helena not lessening one bit.

Anger fueled Christine's veins as she gazed back at the woman with pure hatred. "I don't know," she growled.

"LIAR!" Beatrice shouted. "TELL ME WHERE HE IS, NOW!"

"NO!" Christine retorted, angry tears falling down her cheeks as she spat her words back at the vile woman. "EVEN IF I DID KNOW I WOULDN'T TELL YOU!" she glared at the woman and felt venom fill her throat. "And if he were here, he would spit at you and turn away; he would be ashamed—"

"ENOUGH!" The Jackal roared, tired of this mellow drama. "YOU will be silent," he growled, pointing a finger at Christine. "And YOU," he snarled, looking at Beatrice, "will leave this place and return to the ship."

Beatrice's eyes widened at the pirate's words. "I am NOT leaving without my son!"

"The boy is clearly nowhere in sight!" The Jackal bellowed. "You have the girl, now go!"

Christine gasped and the other children wailed at the thought of their sister being taken away. "NO! No, please, don't do this, please, I'll do anything! Take me if you must take someone, but leave her be!"

"SILENCE!" The Jackal roared, his dark eyes fixing a cold stare on Christine. "If you're not quiet I'll let my men have their way with your maid servants, and I know you wouldn't want that," he growled, menacingly. Christine felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach and she glanced over her shoulder as several of The Jackal's men sneered and chuckled, while the young maids whimpered in fear.

"LET HER GO!"

All eyes flew to the young boy who leapt to his feet, despite Ophelia's protests, and launched himself at Beatrice in order to save Helena.

Ophelia's scream filled the air as Beatrice kicked her booted foot out and sent the boy skidding across the floor, coughing up blood.

"KARL!" Helena cried, her eyes wide with fear and amazement at what the boy had just tried to do. Now he lay crumpled on the floor, his mother and brother rushing to his side and weeping over his unconscious form.

The Jackal groaned and shook his head. "I trust we have now satisfied all heroic intentions, yes?"

Christine glared at the villain, wishing she had something to throw at his head. Where was Erik? Where were her husband and his band of warriors? Were they truly all right? Had this really been a reverse trap, a plan to lure them away from Winterbourne so the pirates could lay siege upon the castle, or were their actual cutthroats in Valmour, waiting to sabotage them? _Oh God, please, bring him back to me!_

"Take the girl and go!" The Jackal ordered, his eyes thin slits as they glared at Beatrice.

"I want my son!" Beatrice retorted.

"And I want my map!" The Jackal growled. "But I have lived with disappointment before, and have learned the value in waiting. YOU will also learn such a lesson!" he snapped his fingers then, and two of his men approached Beatrice, looking as if they were fully prepared to drag her away if need be.

"You bastard," she spat, glaring at The Jackal before shaking the oafs' hands off her shoulders. "I will manage on my own!" she snarled, before turning her back upon the lot of them, and stalking out the door of the great hall, dragging a wailing Helena with her.

Christine glanced up at the pirate, who was eyeing her carefully, no doubt looking for any excuse he could to make his threat from earlier a reality. She kept her mouth closed, but her eyes remained focused on the child, praying that Helena could hear her thoughts and know that she would soon be safe, that she would be returned to her family and home, safe and sound, so help her God.

"We still haven't found anything, boss!" grumbled one of The Jackal's men who entered the great hall. "We've done as you said, torn and thrown furniture all about, looking at every crevice, every cranny, and in every passage that you suggested…and yet we still haven't found anything that looks like a hidden chamber or staircase!"

Christine's eyes widened at this revelation. Hidden chamber of staircase? So this mysterious treasure that Beatrice had mentioned…was it actually in the castle!?

The Jackal looked extremely irritated at his men, both for their bad news and for their revealing words. "Keep looking," he barked, before turning away. "We're not leaving this place until we find it!" His eyes then flew to Christine, taking her by surprise with his stone hard stare. "Where is it!?" he demanded.

Christine looked confused. Did he think she actually knew something about this secret treasure!? She had only just learned of such thing now!

"WHERE IS IT!?" he demanded again, and without warning, rushed towards her, releasing her from the iron grip of his henchman, and threw her down upon the ground, until he was hovering menacingly over her. "TELL ME WHERE IT IS!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Christine shouted over the cries of her children. "I don't know of any treasure, or secret chamber!"

"Not that," he snarled, before kneeling down and leaning over her, his words dripping with venom as he glared at her. "The map; where is it!?"

The map? How was she supposed to know? He had told her it had come from Baron de Coleville's house, but in the brief time when she had overlooked the items Sir Erik had brought from there, she had found no map. "I don't know! There was no map in his belongings!"

"Don't lie to me!" The Jackal screeched, his deep voice changing suddenly. Christine looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. That voice…it sounded familiar…

"I just learned that Baron de Coleville had it hanging in his home all these years in plain sight for all to see! And your husband took it!"

What on earth was he talking about!? A map that hung in his home for all to see? But that wasn't true, she had worked in Pierre de Coleville's home since she was a child, she had never seen a map hanging on any wall in any part of that castle—

No. It couldn't be…surely he was not referring to…to _that?_

_"This tapestry was given to me by my mother, your grandmother, and her mother gave it to her, and one day, I hope you can give it to your children. It's a very special tapestry, as you can see, for it tells a unique story, a story that your grandmother told me that I am now going to tell you. A lovely young maiden had fallen in love with a handsome knight, who lived in a faraway castle in the north. She wanted to marry this knight, but before she could find him and tell him of her love, she learned that he had been captured by a horrific ghost, and was being held prisoner within a tower of the dark castle, tormented by evil spirits and grotesque demons. Only true love could save him, and because she loved him so, she was determined to face the monsters, and save her knight. And so she went to the castle, and she was terrified by it's forbidding presence! But she swallowed her fear, and bravely entered the haunted place, fighting the demons that lay inside, vanquishing the spirits that tried to stop her, until she finally reached the tower where her beloved was kept prisoner."_

_"Then what happened, Papa!? Was the ghost inside!?"_

_"Aye, that he was, my sweet. She came face to face with the terrifying ghost…but the ghost was not what she was expecting!"_

_"You mean he was more hideous than she imagined!?"_

_"He was quite hideous, yes, but the ghost was in fact…her beloved knight!"_

_"OH! Was a spell cast upon him!?"_

_"Aye. An evil magic brought upon by the demons; a magic that made the knight only half of a man, and kept him locked in darkness. But the maiden loved him deeply, and despite his monstrous form, declared her love for the ghost and kissed him…"_

_"And did that break the spell!? Oh please, Papa, don't stop! What happened!?"_

_"Oh Christine, my anxious girl. Aye, the spell was broken, and the knight was restored to his human form, thanks to the love of his lady fair. And together, they ruled their tiny kingdom in love, peace, and prosperity, all the days of their life."_

_"And is that them? There, on the tapestry, overlooking their kingdom from the high tower?"_

_"Indeed my sweet, indeed. That is the knight and his love, in their castle by the sea, surrounded by their fields of roses."_

_"Oh Papa, is this a true story? I hope it is…"_

_"Well…your grandmother's family come from the north, and that is where the sea is. So perhaps, Christine, perhaps it is a true story…"_

_"I hope so. I would love to meet a knight one day like the maiden."_

_"I'm sure you will, my brave, pretty heroine. I'm sure you will."_

The memory left Christine shaken. It was just a bedtime story, one that her mother turned into a song to comfort her when she had nightmares! It wasn't true…was it?

"Apparently de Coleville had acquired the map from an old servant," The Jackal grumbled with disgust, interrupting Christine's memories. "A servant who had connections to a northern estate!"

Christine paled at this revelation. And even more so at the memory of the words that were exchanged to her husband, when he had inquired about the tapestry's history.

_"My great-grandmother on my father's side made it. She worked for a nobleman in the north, and had created the tapestry for her master, but as a reward for her many good years of service, he commanded that she keep the tapestry, and pass it on to her children…"_

Was it possible? Was her family's tapestry more than just a beautiful piece of art? Was the purpose for its creation to reveal something hidden? A cold shiver coursed through Christine; where exactly had her great-grandmother worked, while she had lived in the north?

"You know something…"

Christine's eyes flew to the pirate, who was watching her intensely and suspiciously. "You're mistaken," she lied. "I don't know how much you know about me, but I used to work in de Coleville's home, and I can assure you that I never saw a map hanging on any wall—"

"DAMN IT, CHRISTINE, IT WAS IN PLAIN SIGHT!" The Jackal screeched, his voice suddenly changing once more. "I KNOW IT WAS, I NEVER PAID ATTENTION TO IT, BUT IT WAS HANGING THERE IN THE GREAT HALL ALL THOSE YEARS, AND I KNOW THAT SIR ERIK TOOK IT, AND YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE IT IS, NOW!"

Christine stared in horror at the madman who was screeching over her, who's eyes had suddenly become a chillingly familiar demonic brown, and whose voice had filled her nightmares ever since she had gone to work at Pierre de Coleville's castle.

"Who are you…?" she whispered, a part of her screaming the truth while the other part of her wanted to deny it, wanted to not believe that the man of her worst nightmares was standing before her in the guise of a pirate.

"Does it really matter, milady?"

All eyes and heads turned to the doorway of the great hall, where a tall, blonde man stood, lazily leaning against the doorframe.

"He's a villain…and in truth, they're all alike."

"Sir Raoul!?" Christine gasped, stunned by the man's sudden appearance, and even more so by the carefree way he spoke. Was he an accomplice in all this? Had he come back now, to join his partner, after fooling Sir Erik and his men to leave Winterbourne unguarded?

However, these questions were quickly proven wrong when The Jackal's voice rang out throughout the great hall. "SEIZE HIM!"

Raoul's lazy stance quickly changed into one for attack, and while five large, burly looking pirates charged at him with clubs, daggers, and swords, the blonde knight easily dodged their attacks and returned to them fatal wounds that left them gurgling and bleeding upon the stone floor.

The Jackal stared at Sir Raoul with horrified astonishment as the man easily killed five of his strongest men. Raoul only smiled before bowing his head, his eyes never leaving those of The Jackal. "I thank you, sir, it's been quite some time since I had the opportunity to slay some scoundrels." His smile then faded, as if it had never been there in the first place, and he raised his sword, his hazel eyes penetrating those of the pirate. "Now…release Lady Christine and her children."

The Jackal eyed Sir Raoul carefully, while drawing his own sword, but instead of attacking, merely paced the length of the room. "Are you ordering me, sir?"

"Aye," Raoul growled, scraping the blade of his sword against the ground before him.

The Jackal chuckled. "I've heard about you," he mused. "In fact, I find it most…interesting, that a man who dedicated these past few years of his life towards seeking vengeance upon a former friend, a man who, I think we can both agree, ruined your life and your chance at happiness…is now here, defending his wife and children," he glanced at Christine before cocking an eyebrow. "Was Sir Erik's first wife not enough for you? Are you also plucking her too?"

"DAMN YOU!" Raoul snarled, before launching himself at the scarf-wearing pirate, but his sword instantly clashed with one of The Jackal's men, and immediately Raoul found himself surrounded by a group of thugs, each thirsty for blood, and each prepared to kill for their master.

Christine screamed as one of the villains attempted to hit him over the head with a club. "LOOK OUT!"

Raoul ducked just in time, and the club came crashing down on another pirate, blood spurting from his cracked skull. The fight continued, and Sir Raoul fought with the pent up rage and passion he had been purposefully suppressing all these years until he came face to face with Erik. But Erik was not his enemy, not as he had once been. They had been great friends once, and perhaps, by saving his old friend's wife and children, he could find redemption for his traitorous acts.

The Jackal watched in disbelief as Raoul fought his men, slaying one, and then the other, and it seemed that no matter how many charged in attack, the blonde knight managed to outwit them, before throwing a deadly blow. "Idiots!" he shouted. "He's only one man! Can you not defeat one man!?"

"FOR WINTERBOURNE!"

The Jackal whirled around and gasped, as suddenly, the ropes that had been holding the servants, mysteriously came loose, and several of the men, and even some of the women, including Anne, leapt to their feet, ready to join the battle. The source of the shouting came from a bearded man, standing at the back of the room, holding what looked like a long, heavy piece of wood, and was using it as a weapon to fight off attacking pirates. On the ground, cutting through the ropes that bound the servants, was a servant girl with copper-colored hair.

"MEG! ROBERT!" Christine shouted, relief flooding her as she gazed upon her two dear friends, who were freeing and rousing the other servants into battle. Once their restraints were cut, the servants grabbed hold of anything they could find that could be used as a weapon (mainly broken pieces of furniture) and joined the attack, shouting Winterbourne and Sir Erik's name as they did so.

The Jackal couldn't believe this. His men! Men who were known for their ferociousness, who caused terror to tremble in the hearts of villagers, who were the source of all sorts of nightmares…were being defeated by kitchen servants!?

He threw his head back and let out a roar of disgust, before reaching down and grabbing Christine by the hair and hauling her up to her feet.

"MAMA!" Charles and the twins shouted. As soon as the fight broke out, Ophelia had gathered the remaining children and was holding them close with her own in a corner. "MAMA!" they wailed, struggling against Ophelia's hold as they watched The Jackal fling Christine, by her hair, into the arms of another pirate.

"TAKE HER TO THE SHIP! NOW!"

The man didn't argue, he grabbed Christine and threw her over his shoulder and held her fast, despite her kicking feet, pounding fists, and screams of protest.

The children wailed, Ophelia screamed, and several servants, including Anne and Robert, attempted to rush after her, but were stopped by a new onslaught of The Jackal's men. Raoul lifted his head when he heard Ophelia scream Christine's name, and with a grunt of determination, ran his sword through one of the men in the thick throng of attackers, and bolted from the chaos to pursue the captured lady.

However, he barely made it into the courtyard, before he found his path blocked by The Jackal himself.

The storm had stopped while The Jackal's men were rounding up the servants and searching the castle, but overhead, thunder threatened to open the heaven's once more, and release its tempest upon the world.

Raoul took a step towards the pirate, and bowed his head ever so slightly, as if out of politeness for what was about to take place between them. "For a dead man, you seem to be in remarkable good health," he snarled, lifting his sword, inviting his opponent to come closer.

"Thank you," The Jackal chuckled, also bowing his head. "For a dead man, you seem to fight very well."

Raoul returned the chuckle; only his was dripping with sarcasm. "I was taught by the best," he growled, testing his footing. "And you sir?"

"Me?" The Jackal returned the question.

"Aye," Raoul murmured. "Were you also taught by a skilled swordsman? Or at the very least, by one who once wore that same scarf you wear now?"

The Jackal's eyes narrowed, and Raoul could tell, despite the man's hidden face, that he had struck a nerve.

"I'm just saying," Raoul explained, "that for a man who's sailed the seas, raped, pillaged, and plundered every port from here to Spain, and was seen to have fallen to his death after a mortal wound delivered from the Black Knight…you hardly look as if you've aged a day."

"Oranges," The Jackal explained. "They do wonders for the skin." Without warning, he launched himself at Sir Raoul, roaring as he went, his sword clanking with Raoul's blade, sparks flying as the fight began.

The Jackal was not strong, not in the same way that Raoul or Sir Erik were strong, but he was fast, devilishly fast, and he wielded his sword like an expert. Raoul believed that Erik had killed The Jackal all those years ago, but whoever this…this imposter was, fought just like the villainous pirate. So like him that it was chilling!

The clash of swords caused Christine to lift her head from the pirate's shoulder, and she gasped as she watched The Jackal and Sir Raoul engage in fierce combat. Each man was a master with his own sword, each moved with grace and agility, and each lashed out at the other, and countered the other's attack with skill and coolness. She remembered how Erik had told her that he had spent many hours, when he was a boy, helping Raoul strengthen his skills with a sword. Indeed, she could see her husband's talent in every movement of the blonde knight.

A streak of lightning filled the sky, and Christine watched the bolt fall to the earth, somewhere in the far off distance. However, her eyes did not lift, nor did her body attempt to thrash against her captor.

Thunder filled her ears…but it was not thunder caused by the sky. Nay, for in the distance, near where the lightning had fallen, she saw the source of the thunder, and it was created by hundreds of charging horses, each galloping at high speed up the road towards Winterbourne.

"ERIK!!!"

Both Raoul and The Jackal froze as Christine's scream pierced the air. Raoul looked to the distance, and felt hope rise in his chest at the sight he saw. It was the first time in a very long time, when he was grateful to see Erik.

The Jackal threw a curse to the wind, and lashed out at Raoul with his sword. A hiss of pain escaped Raoul's lips as he felt the sword dig into the flesh of his arm.

"BURN IT!" The Jackal ordered his men. "BURN IT AND RETURN TO THE SHIP!"

His men, who were busy fighting and killing those that attacked them, stopped their actions at the sound of their master's order. Immediately, they began retreating, but not before throwing oil to the ground and upon the furniture and in the hay outside the stables, and throwing candles and torches on top of it, creating a hellish blaze that would char the skin off anyone who stood too close.

The Jackal turned to retreat with his men, but was stopped when Sir Raoul's sword clanked with his own. "We're not through," Raoul grunted, pulling his sword back and moving swiftly, aiming for the pirate's chest.

The Jackal was faster, and managed to side step the attack. "Oh please, give me a worthy adversary—AHHH!"

The Jackal screamed as he felt a blade cut into his shoulder from behind. He staggered forward and turned around, clutching his arm as his eyes filled with the terrifying sight of the Black Knight.

"If you insist," Erik growled, before launching himself at the pirate. Sir Erik's men flooded the courtyard, and dismounted their steeds, many of them engaging in combat with The Jackal's horde, while some joined the servants in attempts to put out the fires.

"Erik von Desslar," The Jackal hissed through his scarf. "I've waited a long time to extract my revenge."

"You'll just have to continue your waiting in hell…which you shouldn't have left in the first place!" Erik roared, before clashing his sword with that of his old enemy.

The Jackal growled as he counted Sir Erik's attack. "I would LOVE to finish this now," he snarled, "but I think it's best to inform you about a certain lady?"

"ERIK!"

Her scream tore his heart in two, and Erik's masked face paled as he looked up and saw her being dragged away by several of The Jackal's men. All thoughts of fighting his enemy were gone; Christine was all that mattered!

"CHRISTINE!" Erik roared, pushing his way through pirates and his own men, trying to chase after her, trying to reach her, but the horde seemed to only grow and push him back, keeping him from his precious goal. "CHRISTINE!"

"ERIK, LOOK OUT!"

Erik spun around just in time as Raoul shouted his name, missing The Jackal's deathly blow that would have sliced him in two if the sword had made it into his side. Anger and rage fueling him like never before, Erik lurched towards his attacker, slicing, slashing, and cutting the air with every blow. The Jackal's sword was fast, but it was struggling to keep up, and a grunt of pain escaped his lungs when Raoul moved in from the side and purposefully kicked at the pirate's wrist, causing him to drop his sword and fall to his knees.

"Finish him, Erik!" Raoul urged. "It's your right to do so! I'll go after Christine, I-HULGH!"

Erik lifted his eyes, and gasped as Raoul fell to his knees, his skin paler than any shade of white Erik had ever seen…and when he fell, he was able to see what had caused the blonde knight to collapse.

She stood there, the fire around her dancing and glowing with her hair. In her hand she held a dagger, soaked with blood…and on her face, she wore a smile. A deep, wicked, evil smile…

"Hello, lover," she purred.

Erik couldn't speak; he was too shocked. _BEATRICE!?_

"What's the matter?" she asked, before taking the dagger and wiping the blood off with the hem of her gown. "You look as if you've seen…a ghost?"

"You're dead…"

Beatrice only giggled. "Sometimes, the dead come back…"

It was enough of a distraction for one of The Jackal's men to come from behind him and smash a club over his head. Erik fell to the ground, groaning with pain, while his unseen attacker and Beatrice helped the wounded Jackal to his feet, and more or less carried him off in the same direction the other men had gone.

In the distance, he could still hear Christine's screams…

She was pleading for him, pleading for her hero...

Erik gritted his teeth and attempted to rise to his feet, but the wound to his head made him dizzy, and he only slumped further into the mud. "Christine…" his vision was blurry, he could barely make out the pirates that were disappearing over the horizon. "Christine…"

It began to rain then, and as if they were ghosts that appeared in the mist, the rain seemed to envelope the horde until they had vanished completely from sight, washing away their footprints, removing all traces of their presence…

He had failed. He had made a vow that Christine would never have anything to fear, that he would protect her, that no harm would ever come to her…

And he had failed her.

"Sir! Sir!"

Erik groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, attempting rise to his hands and knees. He lifted his heavy head and looked up to see Anne, kneeling over Sir Raoul, whose breath was coming in short, raspy gulps. "Raoul…" he whispered, remembering how Beatrice had appeared behind him, and how the dagger she was holding was soaked in blood.

Raoul's blood.

"Raoul!" Erik scrambled to his feet and quickly went to his old friend, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the puddle of blood that the blonde knight was lying in, the puddle growing and spreading with the falling rain. "Raoul…" Erik fell to his knees, and carefully moved his arm under the other knight's shoulders, gently lifting him to examine the wound.

A curse escaped his lips. The wound was deep, and Raoul's entire back was soaked in blood. The knight groaned in pain, and Erik quickly lowered him back to the ground, before bringing his fist to his mouth and biting the knuckles, cursing his old enemies and fighting back the emotions that swelled in his heart.

Erik never had any brothers, and yet now…he felt as if he were losing one.

"I…I…I'm s-s-sorry, I…I c-c-couldn't s-stop them…" Raoul coughed, before wincing deeply from the pain that shook his body.

Anger filled Erik then and he fought the urge to reach out and shake his old friend. "WHY!?" he roared, his golden eyes blazing. "WHY DID YOU COME BACK, YOU FOOL!? I GAVE YOU YOUR FREEDOM! I—"

"Exactly," Raoul interrupted, his own eyes locking with Erik's. "And my freedom…is mine…to do with…as I like…" he coughed again, before turning his gaze away.

Erik shook his head, amazed and perplexed by his friend's actions. Was it just a few days ago that Raoul had come here, wanting to kill him? And now he was lying in the mud, dying, because he had tried to defend Erik and his family? It made no sense…

"Do you think…?" Raoul began, before going into a coughing spasm. Erik bit his lip, trying to keep his emotions at bay as he waited out Raoul's cough. "Do you…do you think…that…that God will f-forgive me for the wrong that…that I have done?"

Erik's hand clasped the other man's shoulder. "If God can send me an angel, one who loves me despite my face and all the wrong doings of my past…then yes, I think God will forgive you," he paused before murmuring, "I know I have."

Raoul smiled at this, and reached up and grasped Erik's hand on his shoulder. "That's why I came back," Raoul whispered. "I did you great evil, Erik…I…I wanted to do something right…I…I only wish…I could have done more—"

"Rest your voice," Erik interrupted, not sure if he could handle hearing any more. "You need to save your strength—"

"Don't…" Raoul groaned. "I'm ready for death…I know that now."

Erik could only nod his head, grief flooding his being as he looked down at the broken man before him, a man who had fought so valiantly and bravely. "I will write to the King," Erik softly whispered. "Your name will be cleared…and you will have a hero's funeral."

Raoul smiled at this, his eyes beginning to drift shut. "Thank you, old friend…but…my only wish…is to see her…"

Erik knew Raoul meant Elizabeth. "Aye," he whispered, squeezing the man's shoulder. And then…an overwhelming sense of need to explain something to his friend came over him, and Erik found himself leaning down, until his mouth was at level with Raoul's ear, and he softly whispered, "you were right. Sarah and Sabrina are Elizabeth's children…and…and yours."

Raoul's eyes widened slightly from Erik's revelation, and as the masked man lifted his head to look into the other knight's eyes, he was surprised to see a peaceful smile spread across Raoul's lips. "Thank you…" he whispered, his voice even raspier than before. "For that…and for…for being the father, I could never be…"

He lowered his head then, and allowed his eyes to drift shut. A few more breaths escaped his throat…and then…the rise and fall of his chest stopped…and the hand that had grasped Erik's…went loose.

"He's dead, my lord," Anne whispered through her tears.

Erik gazed down at the man who he had wasted so much of his life hating…and who now, thankfully, was able to make amends with before his death. Yet that amends could have lasted for far longer, had he not been a stubborn fool…and had old ghosts of his past not been resurrected to commit their evil.

"You will be avenged, my friend," Erik growled, before slowly rising to his feet and turning his head in the direction The Jackal and his men had retreated. His golden eyes were slits filled with hatred, and his hands were balled fists filled with rage.

By attacking Winterbourne, war had been declared. And by taking Christine…The Jackal and all his horde, had just sealed their doom.


End file.
